I knew the time between losing Kato and Loki was going to be short, but I didn’t expect it to be as short as it was.  As a veterinary professional, I see people lose their pets on an almost daily basis, and while it’s hard, and it’s sad, nothing can prepare you for the loss of your own, and I don’t know anyone who could have explained what it would feel like to lose both boys so close together.

Loki had 314 days post parathyroid/thyroid cancer removal.  He lived the first 245 of those as he had the past 11 years of his life, as normal, with his brother.  The first couple of weeks after surgery were rough, I honestly wondered if he would make it through recovery and I wondered if I should have even done it at all; but I’d never been one to give up on my boys, and Loki had fought cancer before, so we did it again.  It took him until January 2019 to finally recover from the anemia and elevation in his kidney enzymes from that procedure, and along the way we decided unless it was an emergency, that surgery was likely out the question for future issues. But that was OK, we just didn’t dwell on it.  Life was great for 245 days…until Loki lost his brother.

Littermate syndrome is something that refers to 2 puppies from the same litter being raised together in the same home and having a bond so strong they are often unable to function without one another.  It’s why most breeders won’t let the same family adopt / buy more than one puppy at the same time from the same litter.  Loki and Kato were not littermates, but they sure were bonded to the core and you couldn’t tell them they weren’t brothers!  From the first day we picked up Kato, he demanded to ride in the back seat with Loki, his new big brother,  they were constant companions.  24 hours; 1 day, is all they spent apart in 11 years, and that’s only because Kato was hospitalized at the ER and taking Loki to visit would have gotten him too excited – not great when you’re trying to get rid of an arrythmia. 

Loki was present when Kato left us, and he suffered his own grief as I have mentioned when I wrote about Kato’s passing.  He didn’t eat well for a while and he was quieter than normal.  We’d take him out for ice cream, puppacino’s and wherever we went that he was able to come.  He slowly came around over a couple of weeks but he wasn’t the same without his brother.  Between Mike and I working opposite shifts and having opposite days off, he was only ever alone 2 half days a week, less than 10 hours.  Those 10 hours probably hurt me as much as it stressed him.  We had a Nest camera in our room where they stayed while we were at work and when Loki was alone he would often bark and whine.  He never did that when he had his brother.  Eventually he would lie down and fall asleep but it broke my heart to see that. 

In June we consulted with his cardiologist and a neurologist due to an increase in episodes which we later found to be seizures.  At first, I thought they were Syncope (kind of like fainting, due to insufficient blood flow from his heart condition), but after showing videos to the neuro Dr. she determined seizures were most likely and a brain tumor was high on the list of possibilities.  We did the seizure meds and after some tinkering, we got him to only having 1-2 episodes in a month or so.  They weren’t full blown seizures like the thoughts immediately coming to mind, more like a weird stretch and some interesting twitches.  Sadly, his health continued to decline and his thyroid/parathyroid cancer had started growing back, despite being on medication and a slew of supplements, CBD and a diet based around TCVM (Traditional Chinese Veterinary Medicine).

 Last ditch efforts for some pets involve putting them on steroids, it’s a way to shrink some tumors, and alleviate some symptoms of illnesses when you’re in the end stages of life.  We made the decision to do this for his comfort.  The cancer growing back was starting to make Loki cough/hack and after a couple of days on the steroids, his symptoms improved.  Who cares if he drank gallons of water and peed like a horse, for a couple of weeks, he was happy! I actually thought we might have a few more months left with how quick he turned around.  After about 2.5-3 weeks on the steroids I decided to run some labwork, Loki had been feeling a little more blah and I noticed his panting increasing and his abdomen looking larger, he’d also taken to skipping meals and only eating when I offered him Chick Fil A grilled nuggets.  The results were…shitty to say the least.  Steroids come with their own selection of side effects and since Loki was always a light weight, he had a less than chihuahua dose, but even this was affecting him in a negative way.  After an ultrasound on his abdomen, it was determined his liver was very enlarged and there was likely a mass on it.  All his specialists and Dr’s already suspected his thyroid cancer had spread to his brain to cause seizures, now his liver was involved along with having a tumor on his heart.  My sweet, happy, soul mate was starting to suffer and just days later he was gone.

The night before he left, he started to get uncomfortable, he was panting a lot and wouldn’t sleep much, he wouldn’t eat, and I could tell he was just, tired.  Some people say you’ll know when it’s time to say goodbye to your dog, and with him, I did.  314 days after the cancer was removed from his body, I had to let him go, just 69 days after holding his little brother Kato, as he took his last breath. 

Kato came to me in a dream the night before Loki left. In my dream I remember I was sitting in bed, typing, as I’m doing right now, and I looked up and saw him standing in the doorway of our bedroom.  Kato was coming to get his brother.  They had been apart long enough, and it was time for them to be together again. As much pain as I have endured losing them, I do have peace in knowing they are together, where they belong, as they had been for the past 11 years. 

I still forget they’re not here. Sometimes I have to pause talking to Mike on the phone because I’m about to ask him if he fed the boys and gave them meds, sometimes I still can’t believe they’re actually gone from this world.  But they are.  Losing a dog sucks at any time, but losing two in such a close period of time, with which you shared most of your young adult life and had such a strong bond with, really, really sucks. They were my reason to get up in the morning. I can’t decide whether to have an identity crisis or an anxiety attack, sometimes it’s both. Adjusting to a new normal has been odd but we’re getting there, slowly.  Life is about change right? I guess a new chapter is about to start.