Osteosarcoma in Sighthounds: They Do Not Limp, They Do Less

Storm was a powerful swimmer. She loved the water and she was in it every chance she got.

That day she ran into the lake after a ball, the way she always did, and the moment she hit the water her back leg gave way.

There was no collision, no fall, no bad landing. Water does not break a sound leg. The bone gave because it had been hollowed out from the inside by a tumour none of us could see.

That is called a pathological fracture, and it is one of the ways osteosarcoma announces itself. By the time a bone goes like that, the disease has been at work for a long while.

Look at what she was doing when it happened, though. She was running. She was chasing a ball into a lake at full tilt. Right up to that second she was, to look at her, a completely well dog, and afterwards every vet who saw her said the same thing about how strong she was.

Then one of them told us she had been in constant pain the whole time.

Both of those things were true together, and that is the part I want other sighthound owners to sit with. She was not a dog who started hurting the day her leg went. She was a dog who had been hurting and had simply never let on. That is not a happy detail about how tough she was. That is the disease being very good at hiding, in a breed that is very good at hiding things.

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Osteosarcoma is a cancer of the bone-forming cells. It is the most common primary bone tumour in dogs by a long way, making up roughly 85 per cent of them.

Two things make it dangerous. The first is that it destroys bone locally, which is what causes the pain and, eventually, the break. The second is that it spreads early and quietly, usually to the lungs. By the time most dogs are diagnosed, tiny deposits have almost always already left the leg, even when the chest X-ray comes back clean.

It turns up most often in the limbs rather than the spine or skull, and there is a phrase vets use for where it likes to sit: away from the elbow, towards the knee. In practice that means the wrist end of the front leg, the shoulder end of the upper front leg, and either side of the stifle in the back leg.

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This disease tracks how tall a dog is, not what she weighs. For a sighthound those are two very different numbers, and almost everybody goes by the wrong one.

Measure your dog. It takes a minute.

Floor to the top of the shoulder, standing square. Write the number down. That is the number that matters here.

Where the risk sits, by height

• Over 70cm. Deerhounds, wolfhounds, greyhounds. Highest risk of all.
• 55 to 70cm. Bigger lurchers, salukis, greyhound bitches, and a lot of dogs their owners call medium. A real risk band.
• Under 55cm. Whippets and the small lurchers. Lower risk, not no risk.

Rough bands to think with, not clinical lines. Risk climbs steadily with size rather than switching on at a threshold.

Why weight misleads you

Most people, and most insurers and food brands, band dogs by weight, where medium runs about 10 to 25kg. Sighthounds are built tall and light, so they come out a band lower than they really are.

Storm weighed between 20 and 30kg, so everybody called her a medium dog. She stood 64cm.

64cm is taller than the average labrador and level with a rottweiler, and this disease is well known in both. By the measure that actually counts she was a big dog, and not one person who met her, me included, would have said so.

That is the trap

For a lurcher, medium describes build. It says nothing about height, and height is what this disease tracks. So a dog everybody calls medium can be sitting squarely in the band that matters, and nobody has ever put a tape on her, because why would you.

Go and measure your dog. Then if a limp turns up and somebody tells you she is too small for this to be a worry, you will have a number to hold against that instead of a word.

One last thing on who gets it: this is usually a middle-aged to older dog’s disease, though it does turn up in young ones.

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Everybody tells you to watch for a limp. A limp is what a dog does when it can no longer hide something, so in a sighthound it is often not the first sign. It is a late one.

What comes before it is far quieter. The dog simply starts doing less, and choosing to do less.

• She does not run the way she used to. Not lame, just less of it.
• She hangs back. She used to be out in front and now she is behind you.
• She does short bursts where she once chased and was chased for as long as you would let her.
• She groans when you pick her up, and she never used to make a sound.
• She is slower getting up, or she thinks about it before she does.
• She has quietly dropped something she always did. The zoomies, the play bow, the greeting at the door.

None of that looks like illness. It looks like getting older, or a quiet week, or a dog who has had a big day. That is exactly the problem, and it is why this gets missed. A sighthound will not tell you it hurts. It will stop doing the thing that hurts, and you will find yourself a reasonable explanation for why.

I did not write that list from a textbook

Looking back now, Storm did every single one of them.

She had stopped running the way she used to. She hung back on walks when she had always been the one out in front. She was doing short bursts where she once chased and was chased for as long as I would let her. And she had started groaning when I picked her up, when she had never made a sound in her life.

I saw all of it. I put it down to her getting older. Every one of those was an early warning sign, and I read them as age, because that is exactly what they look like, and because she was still eating and still pleased to see me and still Storm.

I have had to make my peace with something, and I will pass it on because it may save you the same night: with this disease, catching it earlier would most likely have bought time rather than changed the ending. It might have got her comfortable sooner, and that would have been worth having. But if you are reading this having missed the same signs, you did not kill your dog. This thing is built to be missed.

What it does mean is that the signs are real, and they are readable, and they come well before the limp. If you are going down that list recognising your own dog, do not do what I did and find a reason for it. Take her in.

If your dog has gone off something she loves and you cannot say why, that is worth a vet visit on its own. You do not have to wait for a limp to earn the appointment.

And then the limp, when it comes

What makes it different from an ordinary strain:

• It does not settle. A pulled muscle improves over days of rest. This does not, or it improves slightly and then comes back.
• It often comes and goes at first, which is exactly what makes people wait.
• It is frequently worse after rest rather than after exercise, which is the opposite of what you expect.
• There may be a firm swelling on the leg that is warm and sore to touch.
• The dog may lick or worry at one spot on the limb.
• There is often no story behind it. No twist, no bad landing, nothing you can point at.

Any limp in any sighthound that has not settled within a few days needs an X-ray, not more rest. Size is not the filter here. Not a wait-and-see. Not a week of lead walks to be sure. An X-ray.

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Knowing what is coming makes the appointment less frightening, so here it is in order.

They will feel the leg and watch the dog move. Then they will X-ray the limb, which is the step that matters, because osteosarcoma has a distinctive look on a radiograph: bone being eaten away, new bone being thrown down in a disorganised mess, and the outline of the bone breaking up.

If that appears, they will usually X-ray or scan the chest as well, to look for spread, and they may take a biopsy or a needle sample to confirm the type. Blood work and staging tests follow if you are considering treatment.

Ask for a copy of the X-ray images and the written report. You will want them if you go to a referral centre, and you will want them later when you are second-guessing yourself at two in the morning.

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These are the medians that are typically reported. Your vet will give you the numbers for your dog, which is what actually counts, and individual dogs land either side of these.

• Pain relief only, no surgery: commonly around one to three months.
• Amputation alone: commonly around four to six months. Amputation removes the pain and the fracture risk. It does not treat what has already spread.
• Amputation plus chemotherapy: commonly around ten to twelve months, with a minority of dogs going considerably longer.

Where a leg has already broken through the tumour, as Storm’s did, the picture changes. That fracture will not heal, because there is no sound bone left to knit, and the pain of it is severe. At that point the conversation is a different one.

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Nobody should push you into any of these. They are choices, and the right one depends on the dog in front of you, not on what somebody managed with theirs.

Amputation

It sounds worse than it is. Dogs cope remarkably well on three legs and the pain from the tumour goes with the limb. It is a bigger ask for a very heavy, very tall or already arthritic dog, and a good orthopaedic assessment of the other three legs matters more in sighthounds than most people expect.

Chemotherapy

Given after amputation to slow the spread. Dogs generally tolerate it far better than people do, with fewer and milder side effects than most owners fear.

Limb-sparing and radiation

Available at referral centres for some dogs and some tumour sites, including targeted radiotherapy aimed at controlling pain. Worth asking about if amputation is not right for your dog.

Palliative care

Pain control alone, aimed at comfort rather than time. This is a legitimate choice and not a lesser one. Choosing it is not giving up.

Whatever you choose, get the pain relief right and get it early. This is one of the most painful conditions a dog can have.

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This is the question I could not answer for days, and it is the one most people are really searching for. When is the right time?

Start with the thing that caught us out. Our vet told us plainly that Storm was in constant pain. Not intermittent, not only when she moved. Constant. And she had never once shown us. She was eating, she was following me round the house, she was pleased to see people. Every bit of that was true at the same time as the pain was.

Sighthounds hide it. It is not stoicism as a personality trait, it is how the breed group is built. A greyhound will stand there wagging with a broken bone. Waiting for a sighthound to show you they are suffering means waiting until they can no longer hide it, and that is a very long way past the point you would have chosen.

So the pain was not in doubt. What made it hard was the next sentence, which was that the pain could be managed with medication.

Good pain relief is what makes this decision hard, not easy

This is the part nobody warns you about. Once the medication is working, the dog in front of you looks well. The signal you were relying on is gone, and nothing is going to force the question on you. You can keep going, and going, and the drugs will let you.

Which means the question stops being is she suffering and becomes something much more uncomfortable.

Who are we prolonging her life for?

That was the deciding factor for us, and once we asked it properly the answer came quickly. Storm’s natural quality of life came before ours. Not a managed version of her life, held together with medication so that we could have longer with her. Her actual life, as herself.

Things worth asking, out loud, with someone else in the room:

• What is my vet telling me about pain, as opposed to what is the dog showing me?
• If the medication were taken away tomorrow, what would her day look like?
• Is she still doing the three or four things that are most hers? Eating, greeting you, settling, being interested in the door?
• Who is the extra time for, honestly?
• Am I waiting for her sake, or for mine?

And one more, which your vet will answer honestly if you ask it straight: if this were your dog, what would you do?

My partner and I went round and round it for days and kept landing in the same place. Do right by her, not by us. A day early is a kindness. A day late is not.

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• A limp in any sighthound that has not settled in a few days gets X-rayed. Today, not next week.
• Measure your dog, floor to shoulder, before you ever need the number. Anything over about 60cm is in the bracket, whatever the breed is called.
• Do not wait for a limp. A dog that has quietly stopped running, hangs back, only does short bursts, or groans when you lift her has told you something. Get that looked at.
• Do not accept a wait-and-see on a lame sighthound of any size without imaging having been offered.
• If you feel a firm, sore swelling on a leg bone, that is an emergency appointment, not a routine one.
• If the diagnosis comes back, ask for the pain plan first and the treatment plan second.
• Ask your vet directly whether the dog is in pain right now, and do not take the dog’s demeanour as the answer.
• If pain relief is holding things together, ask what the day would look like without it, and ask yourself who the extra time is for.
• Get a second opinion or a referral if you want one. Any decent vet expects it and will help you get it.
• Take the photographs now, while she is well. You will not want to take them later.

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What are the first signs of bone cancer in a dog?

In a stoic breed the first sign is usually not a limp. It is the dog quietly doing less: not running the way she used to, hanging back instead of leading, only short bursts where she once chased for as long as you allowed, groaning when lifted when she never used to, being slower to get up, or dropping something she always did. That looks like ageing or tiredness, which is why it gets missed. A limp comes later, and unlike a strain it fails to settle with rest, often comes and goes at first, and can be worse after rest than after exercise. There may be a firm, warm, painful swelling on the leg and usually no injury to explain any of it.

What are the early signs of bone cancer in dogs before a limp appears?

Reduced willingness rather than obvious lameness. The dog runs less, hangs back on walks, plays in short bursts instead of sustained chasing, hesitates or is slow to get up, groans when picked up, or quietly drops a behaviour she always offered. Sighthounds in particular compensate rather than limp, so they stop doing the thing that hurts instead of showing you that it hurts. Any unexplained loss of enthusiasm for something a dog loves is worth a vet appointment on its own.

Are sighthounds more likely to get osteosarcoma?

Yes, and height at the shoulder is a more useful guide than the breed name. Dogs above roughly 70cm, so deerhounds, wolfhounds and greyhounds, are at the highest risk, with greyhounds well documented as over-represented. The 55 to 70cm band, which takes in bigger lurchers, salukis and a great many dogs their owners call medium, is a real risk band too. Storm was described by everyone as a medium bull lurcher and stood 64cm at the shoulder, taller than the average labrador and level with a rottweiler. Measure your dog rather than going by the label.

Can a dog’s leg break because of bone cancer?

Yes. Osteosarcoma destroys bone from the inside, so the leg can break with no injury at all. This is called a pathological fracture. It means the disease has been present for some time, and the fracture will not heal because there is no sound bone left to knit.

How long can a dog live with osteosarcoma?

Typically reported medians are around one to three months with pain relief alone, around four to six months with amputation alone, and around ten to twelve months with amputation plus chemotherapy, with a minority of dogs living considerably longer. Individual dogs fall either side of these figures, and your own vet will give you the numbers that apply to your dog.

How do you know when to put a dog to sleep with bone cancer?

Ask your vet directly whether the dog is in pain, and do not treat the dog’s demeanour as the answer, because sighthounds in particular hide it completely. If the pain can be managed with medication, the question changes: it stops being whether the dog is suffering and becomes who the extra time is actually for. Good pain relief makes this decision harder, not easier, because the dog in front of you looks well and nothing will force the question on you. Asking your vet what they would do if it were their own dog is a fair and useful question.

Is my dog in pain if they are not showing it?

Very possibly. Osteosarcoma is one of the most painful conditions a dog can have, and sighthounds are exceptionally good at masking it. Our own vet told us Storm was in constant pain at a point when she had never once shown us, was eating normally and was still following us round the house. Not showing pain is not the same as not being in pain, so ask your vet what the imaging implies rather than judging by how the dog seems.

Is it right to keep a dog alive on pain medication?

Pain relief is always right, and it should be started early and reviewed often. The harder question is what you are using it for. Medication that keeps a dog comfortable and still able to live their own life is doing its job. Medication that is holding together a life the dog no longer really has is a different thing, and it is worth asking honestly who that time is for. Your vet can tell you what the day would look like without the medication, which is usually the clearest way to see where you actually are.

What size counts as a small, medium or large dog?

There is no official standard. No governing body defines the terms, and insurers, food brands, kennels and airlines all draw their own lines. By weight the common bands are under 10kg small, 10 to 25kg medium, 25 to 45kg large and above 45kg giant. By height at the shoulder they are under 35cm small, 35 to 55cm medium, 55 to 70cm large and above 70cm giant. Sighthounds are built tall and light, so the two scales disagree: a greyhound of 68 to 76cm may weigh only 27 to 35kg, reading as large by weight while being at the top of the height scale. For bone cancer risk, height is the more useful of the two.

Not the question you came with? Ask it here. Anything about sighthounds, including whatever this page does not cover.

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I am a sighthound trainer and boarder, not a vet, and nothing here is a diagnosis or a treatment plan. This is an owner’s account of losing his own dog, alongside the things I was told and went on to read, written down because I could not find them gathered in one place when I needed them.

Every decision described here belongs with your own vet, who can see your dog. If something on this page worries you about your own hound, that is the phone call to make, and make it sooner than feels necessary.

I am Don Jordan, The Sighthound Guy. I look after greyhounds, whippets and lurchers across London, with collection around Hampstead, North Finchley and Highgate, a 350ft secure private garden, a climate-controlled home and daily WhatsApp photo and video updates so you always know how your dog is getting on.

The Sighthound Guy is fully insured and bonded, Canine First Aid certified, and holds a 5-star home boarding licence (no. 2023-2989). We hold a 5-star Google rating, are a Google Selected Business and have been featured in Time Out. Sighthounds only.

To talk through your hound, see what I offer, read how I work, or get in touch to arrange a meet and greet.

For Storm, who never let on.