Joe’s journey at Animal Cancer Care and Research Center inspires owners, clinical professionals
Mike Mayo didn’t pick out his dog Joe. It was Joe who picked him.
Mayo was at an Angels of Assisi foster home in Roanoke in early 2012 looking at a litter of 13 mixed redbone-coonhound puppies he had seen online when Joe showed up at his feet gazing at him with soulful eyes.
“I felt something on my foot,” Mayo recalled. “I looked down and there was this little puppy standing on my foot, looking up at me. I reached down, scooped him up and looked him right in the eye and said: ‘And who are you?’ He stretched his neck out and licked me right in the mouth. I said, ‘Looks like you’re it.’ ”
Mayo and his wife, Jeanne, took their new Joe and sister Maggie to their Salem home to fill the void of dogs they had lost who carried the same names previously. The Mayos had lost their 15-year-old dog Maggie on Christmas morning 2011 and her sibling Joe the previous May.
“The house was so quiet. We’d never been without a dog,” Mayo said. “Like a dummy, instead of looking at sports and all kinds of cool stuff on the internet, I started looking at puppies. I stumbled across these guys and a couple of them looked a lot like our Joe. I finally convinced Jeanne to go take a look at them.”
Little did the Mayos know how their new puppy Joe would take them along for a journey of life and death, compassion and perseverance, at the hopeful frontier of faith and the cutting edge of science at a Virginia Tech research hospital, a journey that could one day lead to longer lives and better quality of life for dogs and humans alike.
“I didn’t realize it at the time, but I now feel like Joe was put into my life by God,” said Mayo, a national account manager for Everon Solutions. “There’s been such a transformation in me.”
Inspiration to everyone
With dogged perseverance from Joe and compassionate care from clinicians and staff at the Animal Cancer Care and Research Center in Roanoke, Joe beat initial expectations of a few more months for his life after a lymphoma diagnosis, not just lingering but thriving from spring 2021 to fall 2023, when he was overtaken by a second form of cancer.
“He was so full of life, happiness and love,” said Mayo, a national account manager for Everon Solutions. “He was like that all the way up to the very end. He was still like a puppy. He was ‘my boy’ and there’s no way I was going to give up on him.”
“Joe personified the spirit of our mission at the ACCRC,” said Dan Vruink, administrator of the ACCRC, a translational research center and teaching hospital of the Virginia-Maryland College of Veterinary Medicine. “His battle against cancer served as an inspiration to everyone involved in his care.”
Fun and frightening moments
From day one, Jeanne, Mike, Maggie and Joe were inseparable. Jeanne Mayo, a nurse in the Lewis-Gale Cardiac Cath Lab, would take the dogs on hikes to Dragon’s Tooth, Tinker Cliffs, and Green Hill Park. Joe loved playing ball in the backyard.
“They were always together and always wanted to be with us, no matter what we were doing,” Mike Mayo said of Maggie and Joe. “They slept together and even went to the vet together as support for the other one getting seen.”
Maggie was bitten by a rattlesnake soon after the pups went home. Mayo said he and his wife figured Maggie would end up being the “million-dollar dog” for veterinary treatments.
Mayo had his first scare with Joe on Nov. 8, 2020, when Jeanne called suddenly on his way home.
“I get a phone call a mile from the house and she said, ‘Where are you?’” Mayo recalled. “She said you’ve got to get here as quick as you can. Joe has ripped his chest open.”
Somehow in chasing something outside, Joe had impaled himself, apparently on a sharp limb, and tore a large bloody rip in his chest. While the wound required a deep cleaning and an overnight stay at an emergency veterinary clinic, Joe was fortunate that it had missed his jugular vein by less than an inch.
The following year, after recovering from the chest tear, Joe had another moment that frightened the Mayos and uncovered a deeper problem.
“On this one day toward the end of March, he came in from playing ball and he just stood there in the middle of our den,” Mayo recalled. “I thought, ‘What in the world’s wrong with you?’ Something’s going on. It was really weird.”
‘Wagging his tail’
Swelling found in the same general area as the chest tear previously was biopsied and found to be lymphoma.
“I was told he could be put on prednisone and some dogs do really well with that,” Mayo said. “He might live six months or so.”
But not wanting to give up on a dog that still seemed to have so much vigor, Mayo was informed of other possibilities.
“They do chemotherapy treatments and, in some dogs, they have really good chance of living a year,” Mayo recalled being told by Lee Metrey DVM ’98, Joe’s veterinarian at DeRolf Animal Hospital, founded by Dirk DeRolf DVM ’84. “And the way they administer the chemo, the dogs are not suffering.”
The ACCRC was among the clinics suggested, and by June, there were openings for the center to take Joe’s case.
Joe was soon put into a 20-week regimen of chemotherapy for his lymphoma.
“When we started the chemo, you could tell he was feeling bad,” Mayo said, “But he was still playing ball and wagging his tail.”
‘Cherish the journey’
Mayo was impressed by the level of personal care not only Joe but the Mayos received from the staff and faculty at the ACCRC.
“I asked Dan [Vruink], ‘Do you teach these people this compassion and positive attitude that they have?’” Mayo said. “And he said, ‘We recruit those kind of people.’ So hats off to whoever's doing the recruiting.”
Ester Yang, now at the University of Pennsylvania School of Veterinary Medicine, would give Mayo updates after each week’s exam. “I was always on pins and needles waiting for the call,” Mayo recalled. “Dr. Yang was always so positive and kind. She said she really began to bond with Joe after the first couple of visits. She commented on how happy he was and how expressive he was with his eyes.”
Mayo said he would often find out that Joe wasn’t in a cage at the ACCRC, but rather in a doctor’s office or in the students’ lounge.
“Throughout the years he spent with us, Joe’s unwavering positivity and courage were contagious,” Vruink said. “He would eagerly run back to the hospital for cuddles with the team, leaving a lasting impression. His story continues to remind us to always cherish the journey.”
Mayo said he told ACCRC clinicians from the outset that Joe would beat the odds on cancer – and he did. “For whatever it's worth, the lymphoma that he had never came back,” Mayo said. “So he actually did beat the cancer he was treated for, 100 percent.”
ACCRC family
But by autumn of 2023, some coughing by Joe alerted Mayo to what ended up being diagnosed as another form of lymphoma, and Joe was taken back to ACCRC for radiation treatment with the clinic’s advanced linear accelerator.
“When the cancer came back, we tried to do radiation therapy,” said Ilektra Athanasiadi, assistant professor for radiation oncology, who described Joe and the Mayos as a “dream patient and dream clients.”
“We saw a good response, but unfortunately it was very aggressive, and shortly afterward the cancer was back,” Athanasiadi said.
Mayo remains thankful for Joe’s journey and the ACCRC.
“On the day after Thanksgiving 2023, Angela Richards [oncology technician] from the center actually met us at the vet for his final visit,” Mayo said. “I can’t tell you the love we felt from the team there and in Blacksburg. It was really humbling. They are very special folks.”
The Mayos remain in close contact with several of the professionals who helped them at the ACCRC, as well as at the Virginia Teaching Hospital in Blacksburg, where they still take Joe’s sister Maggie for healthcare.
“Mike and Jeanne Mayo have become part of the ACCRC family,” Vruink said. “Their unwavering commitment to Joe was evident as they collaborated closely with our entire team during his journey. Their steadfast support for the ACCRC has left a permanent mark, and we will forever cherish their friendship.”
