Hi Friend.
Did I tell you I got to take a mini vacation to Quebec City in March? Yes! For years, Quebec City has been on my bucket list to explore, and in a last minute decision, I booked a flight using points I had saved up on my Amex card.
If you’ve visited Substack’s home page lately and checked out my Notes, you may have seen photos, videos and descriptions of my adventures. Here is a link to my favorite one so far: Quebec's Oldest Library And there will be more, including my toboggan ride at the Chateau Frontenac 🛷🙏🏼.
But I had to stop the travel blogging because early in my adventures, there was a terrible interruption in the excitement. I’ll tell you what happened before I proceed with the rest of the escapades exploring this magical, old world city.
Immersing in QC Culture
In planning my four night stay in Old Quebec City, I had researched “oldest restaurant in Old Quebec” and discovered this little gem. It’s building was constructed in 1675: Restaurant aux Anciens Canadiens.
Tired and hungry from traveling, I discovered was just down the short two-block hill from my little hotel. I strapped on my crampons (Quebec City had had THREE FEET of snow in the two weeks before my arrival and the streets were very icy!) and bundled up.
It’s always nice to be welcomed by a friendly person who is willing to speak English when you are in a French speaking city. Nicolas seated me, and Claudine brought me the menu, which included dishes the locals would have eaten in centuries past. While awaiting this delicious food, I received a notification on my phone screen about an email from a doctor. Ruby’s doctor. Ruby is my beloved canine companion of eleven years. I decided to open the message and read it because I knew it was the report from a blood test earlier that week.
My heart stopped when I saw the results: Ruby’s cancer has recurred. Multiple myeloma, in her blood and bones, returning “aggressively.”
I’m dining at a table alone. A dividing partial wall is on my left so I have a bit of privacy. Nicolas brings me a glass of white wine, included with the dinner. The room is small - perhaps a dozen tables, a fireplace with real logs burning, low lighting, lively carvings hung on the walls depicting people dancing and women’s skirts swirling. My eyes are pooling with tears and I can’t help them from spilling onto my cheeks.
As I’m blotting my tears with my grandmother’s hand made “tatted” handkerchief, Claudine delivers the most vibrant beetroot salad. I don’t make eye contact but I thank her. Nicolas returns to check on me and, apologetically, I say, “The food is delicious but I just received the bad news that my beloved dog’s cancer has returned.”
He looks at me compassionately.
“My colleague has dogs and she competes in national races with them,” Nicolas says. “You should talk with her. I will send her over.”
Claudine returned with my main course, the pot-au-feu of mushrooms and root vegetables. She stayed for a moment, standing by me quietly. I took out my phone, as we dog-parents do, and showed her photos of my “doghter.”
Ruby’s story slipped out of my mouth as tears had from my eyes. I told Claudine how cancer had completely surprised us in October of 2023, invading Ruby’s body, and how the cancer amazingly went into remission after just two months on daily chemotherapy pills and steroids. I told her how difficult the following year on those pills had been on both Ruby and me. I had been so relieved when her oncologist gave us the all clear and stopped the medications. But what a shock, that just a few months later, the cancer had returned.
It touched me deeply when Claudine’s eyes teared up too as she witnessed my fresh heartbreak. She knew what it was like.
The first night of my vacation, I sat in this incredible 350 year-old French Canadian restaurant digesting anguishing news. “How will I enjoy this desperately needed holiday now?”
Claudine took out her phone and showed me images of her sleek German short-haired pointers, fantastic photographs of them competing in running races with her, then pulling her in a sled race. She spoke of losing one of her soul dogs not long ago, and we shared a poignant moment of human suffering together.
Because of her and Nicolas, I did not feel so alone that night. They were so kind to me—almost like angels—that night.
The next morning, I awoke and shuddered when I remembered the past night’s news. I felt that awful ache you feel in the middle of your chest when sadness overtakes you. Again, I shook my head. How would I meet people and enjoy this city with this heavy despair over me?
The truth is, it was better for me to process this hard information there in Quebec City with a weekend of adventures planned than it would have been at home. Ruby would have seen me confounded and broken down as I grappled with how I would possibly manage the coming days. I know I would have been a wreck as I imagined her declining and suffering in pain from this cancer.
And of course, as you cannot help doing when a cancer diagnosis comes, I thought about the inevitable—how would I face life without my soul dog?
I call Ruby my “doghter” (like daughter) because she is my only child. She’s a very smart breed, an Australian cattle dog (mostly,) estimated to have the intelligence level of a two or three year-old human. I adopted her at nine weeks old from the Love at First Sight shelter in Nashville, Tennessee. She is eleven now, and she and I have developed a profound bond. Communicating with her has been mind-blowing for me. I was a cat lady before I became Ruby’s person. I had no idea of dogs’ capacity to understand so many words and connect with humans so deeply. You really can’t know until you experience it.
I’ve written about her before, but for newcomers to my Substack community, she’s been my copilot on hundreds of errands and road trips. Working with me in my business as a massage therapist for seven years, Ruby greeted my clients at the door and slept under the massage table, offering her puppy love to those who wanted her near. She’s ridden in the car with me every workday, working with me to help care for older people these past eight years until, last year, cancer made car riding no fun. (She still comes to visit Grandma once a week.)
So, in imagining life without her, there will be a giant space where her furry presence and constant interaction has been. The intrusive news of cancer recurrence forced me to have to think about that while in Quebec City.
Holding Anguish and Joy in the Same Palm
Now, I hope you’ll watch this important video where I grappled with the dilemma of how to enjoy a vacation after receiving bad news. I filmed it the morning after I read the report.
The Return to Ruby
The first month back home with Ruby felt dark as I processed and adjusted to our new reality. Administering chemotherapy tablets daily and watching Ruby lying quietly for hours afterward made me feel concerned, as I knew she was uncomfortable and in pain. I worried she might be declining.
But after that first month, Ruby’s energy started coming back. She began walking faster outside. Then came the day she played with a neighbor dog, pouncing in playfulness, and, astonishingly, spinning around with excitement like she did when she was much younger. She’s been feisty and sometimes mouthy with me again!
Relief lifted my heavy heart. Ruby is having a positive response to the chemotherapy, and I have hope the cancer will go into remission again. I have more time with my beautiful girl and this makes my eyes warm with happy tears.
Slivers of Wonder
The Wonder in my present day is the intrusion of a surprisingly good outcome so far. I see the sparkle returning in Ruby’s personality. I’m amazed with the sheen of her coat and the reduction of bloating in her body. She looks so healthy.
Gratefulness overwhelms me at times.
This is my Wonderworld today.
Wonderworld still surrounded me in Quebec City. It helped me enjoy
slivers of pleasure and delight even when my heart ached with anguish.
Where might you find slivers of wonder?
It’s there, for you and all around you, ready to uplift you in dark times and in lighter ones.
I love having you here with me through it all. Thanks for reading my work and supporting my creative life.
Thanks for engaging with comments and heart likes, too.
Love,
Linda
and Ruby
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