Birds In Spring: Dog Gone, Doggone It
My dog, Kodi, died suddenly the other day. He was 15 years old.
I know, you’re asking, what does that have to do with multiple myeloma?
Let me try to explain.
When I was diagnosed in 2006, and by the time I ended up at Memorial Sloan-Kettering Cancer Center, I was in really bad shape. Or so they tell me. So much so, that I’m told that I’m fortunate to be alive today.
When I found myself unexpectedly admitted to the hospital for about two weeks while they slowly pulled me back from the brink, a lot of thoughts went through my mind, including an odd one about Kodi.
I’d already been thinking that after he passed on, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to get another dog. Kodi was almost 10 years old at that point, and another long-term commitment didn’t seem wise. There’s always the possibility that as Linda and I start to get into senior citizen status that another dog might outlive us.
Facing multiple myeloma, a new thought occurred to me that, hey, I might not outlive Kodi!
Since my diagnosis, Kodi and I have shared frailties and, to a certain extent, decline.
I’ve learned more from him, I’m sure, than he did from me.
Kodi dealt with his declining physical abilities with dignity.
There was no complaining, and he continued to try to do the things he always did, sometimes stubbornly. A playful evening run around the neighborhood late last summer with a wandering cat left him pretty sore, and he lazed around afterward for some three days, not doing much. On a trip last fall to Long Beach Island, he couldn’t contain himself when we got there. He ran around the beach and into the ocean, which he loved.
As he aged, Kodi had his good days, and not-so-good ones. Always, there were more good ones than bad ones, but it did require that he adapt.
As he changed his ways, he was sometimes not quite as energetic, nor did he act quite so enthusiastically all the time. That didn’t stop him, however, from doing all those things that defined him.
It was as if he was making a statement, “This is what I do. This is me.”
On days when he maybe didn’t feel so hot, he rested.
On many other days, you’d never have a clue that he was as old as he was.
Over the past six years, I’ve not been able to do some things because of health issues related to the myeloma. It’s frustrating.
But, my goodness, even at his advanced age (I guess he’d be 105 in dog years), Kodi sometimes would still run around our front yard like a young dog, as if to say, “Come on, if I can do things like this, so can you.”
Lessons in life can come from places you might least expect.
Kodi never whined about his troubles.
Even when ills manifested themselves, Kodi continued to act like every day was a joy – every moment a treasure.
He always let you know how happy he was that you were there.
He would use his body language to intimate that something wasn’t right, but, even so, he wasn’t one to mope around.
If things were good, he did the things he liked – wandering about the woods behind our house, barking at the UPS truck anytime it came up the street, sitting under the tree on his hill in the front yard keeping an eye on the neighborhood as any good mayor would do, following around anybody working in the yard.
If he wasn’t feeling so hot, he’d go to the pantry door to beg for a “cookie” – that is, a dog biscuit – and take a nap.
The day that Kodi died, Linda and I were in New York City for an appointment with my doctor at Memorial Sloan-Kettering.
Kodi stayed with our daughter on occasions when we were away.
The night before he died, he was his usual self, sitting out in the warm evening in her front yard, showing no sign of distress.
Between 7:30 a.m. and 8 a.m. the next day, our vet speculates that Kodi’s heart just gave out.
The lifetime of a dog is way shorter than ours.
Perhaps there’s a reason for this.
We get to see his or her passage through all the phases of life – from the exuberance of youth to the frailty of old age. It’s not hard to take those experiences and relate them to our own, and learn from them.
For Robert Frost, a dog’s life is a metaphor for ours. In a simple two-line poem, “The Span of Life,” Frost writes:
The old dog barks backwards without getting up.
I remember when he was a pup.
Lou Ganim is a multiple myeloma patient and columnist at The Myeloma Beacon.
If you are interested in writing a regular column to be published by The Myeloma Beacon, please contact the Beacon team at .
Lou, I a very sorry to hear of your loss of Kodi. I as well have multiple myeloma, I was diagnosed with it in May of 2010. Since them, I have been fighting my battle with chemo, a stem cell transplant, etc. My partner Mark, family and friends have been supportive and wonderful through all of this. My dog Alvin, who just turned 11 has also been so wonderful. I feel these dogs really know when a family member is sick or in crisis. I am so fortunate to have had him by my side- I know it has made my darkest days a little brighter. He always gives me a reason to get up an taked him for a walk, even when I am feeling terrible. I know you and your wife are grieving now for Kodi, but I certainly hope in the near future another 4 legged friend comes into your life- they ad so much comfort and laughter to our lives.
Cheers to Kodi, and Good Health and a Cure!
Patrick Giel
Hi Lou
Great Article thanks for sharing. I'm sorry to hear about your loss. We can learn so much from Animals. Sometimes it seems they have much more dignity than us. They don't complain, it seems they don't even pity themselves. I envy them and wish I could emulate them. Some would say they don't know any better and maybe they don't but that's a blessing. We can make a huge difference in our own destiny with our attitude and approach. And yes every day and every joy is a blessing. We need to appreciate the little things. Not so easy to do all the time.
Best wishes for good health and good times
Art
Hello Lou,
So sorry for your loss of Kodi. Your story really touched me. My mom was diagnosed with Multiple Myeloma at the end of December. The day the doctors came in to tell her the news, her beloved cat of 18 years died at home. It was so sad to have all this bad news and to know she wasn't going to go home to her cat. It has been really hard for our family going through this situation with Myeloma. I pray for your family and thank you for telling your story!
Gina
Thank you for this touching, beautifully penned article, Lou. Like you, my family loves our dogs. I've often felt that we've been given a wonderful gift in being able to share such close companionship and to enjoy the unique perspective of seeing our furry friends grow from puppy-hood to their senior years. Sentimental fool that I am, I've cried at the passing of our dogs as hard as I have cried for anything. And like you, I have wondered if I will survive our current three dogs, two aged 10 and one aged 2. At the risk of being accused of overly personifying these critters, they have taught me important lessons such as living in the moment, not masking my emotions, and the joy of wagging my proverbial tale at even the simplest things in life - all of which have been valuable in my MM struggle. Lou, my heartfelt condolences to you at the passing of your Kodi.
Good article. I can so relate. My husband was diagnosed in October 2004. Our Border Collie Rebelle got congestive heart trouble in February 2011. She was 16. I had to have her put down little over a year later because she had developed severe dementia at the end and I felt it was so unfair to my husband for both of us to stay home and care for her. She was up to 13 pills per day. But like Kodi, she had some great days! Anyway, as I saw my Gary declining I wanted him to be able to enjoy some life so I made the decision on my birthday April 15th. Her vet said it was long over due! The only thing keeping her alive was the pills. I got a bit huffy and said "the only thing keeping Gary alive is the pills!" She said the difference is it is his choice. It wouldn't be hers. I felt I did the right thing. Gary and I took a wonderful trip to Quebec and then down the coast of Maine in July! We made a few more memories. Gary passed away this January...his last understandable words the night before he died was "Rebelle!! Rebelle!!"....she came to show him the way home! Dogs are important in our lives and after......
Really sorry to hear about Kodi, Lou. He sounds like he was just a great dog, and will be missed. We had a dog as our family grew up, for 14 years. She was wonderful and the kids just loved her. When she died in 2000, our children were going away to university and it was difficult for us to keep another dog, because we were away a lot on weekends. But the memories are still there, and one thing is for sure, she got us out walking so much that that habit is still very ingrained.
Thanks so much for your kind words and sympathy. Patrick -- I agree, like your Alvin, Kodi seemed to know when things weren't right with me, and it sometimes upset him. Art -- our dogs can teach us what's important and what we should appreciate...an important lesson. And Gina, there is so much a family has to deal with when there's a myeloma diagnosis; not only does the person with the disease need "someone to lean on," often so do the close family members.
Sean -- Thanks so much for your comments and your condolences. I really appreciate your thoughts. It's always difficult to deal with the loss of a pet. The loss of Kodi has been particularly hard.
Nancy -- Our pets often seem to have another sense -- in 2007, because of back pain, I slept in a recliner for many weeks...each night, once I was settled in the chair, our cat, Mitchy, would join me and cuddle up.
Eva -- I am sorry to hear of Carl's passing..I am so sorry for your loss. My thoughts are with you.
So sorry to hear about Kodi. My family has 2 dogs which we are crazy about and spoil rotten. My husband was diagnosed with MM in May 2009 and he too is being treated at Memorial Sloan-Kettering. We live in eastern PA, have 2 daughters and I work full time. I spent many days driving in and out of NYC for his treatments, ASCT, appts., etc and I gotta tell you, my dogs were such a comfort to me whenever I came home. They sense when you need them and know exactly what to do. I know you will miss Kodi so much, but remember the great memories you have and how blessed you were to share your life w/ him. My family also enjoys LBI and I'm taking Friday off this week to head down there and enjoy this warm weather for a couple of days with my husband. Seems like we have a lot in common. Again, so sorry for your loss and keep close to your heart the lessons Kodi blessed you with. I enjoy reading your columns and wish you continued success in your fight against MM.
Sorry for your loss. Our pets become close personal friends. Your article tuched my heart and I know you Loved Kodi dearly. Thank you for a great article and perspective on pets.
Stay healthy
Lou, to quote an old Stones song "You make a grown man cry". My first diagnosis came from my dog Sadie. She began to sniff at my stomach, and be by my feet all of the time. Little did I know it was kidney failure from the Lamda light chain or ambloydosis. Also, she was with me all the time during my treatment, and always gave me cause to get up and throw the ball. She is a Chocolate Lab, and loves it, no she lives for it. Sorry for your loss. A dog is a great buddy to have going through a personal crisis like MM. Best Regards/Gary
Oh Lou - so sorry to hear about Kodi. They are so much a part of the family and in their short life span give far more than they receive.Heartbreaking as it is to let them go - we are better for having shared their lives. You hang in there my friend!
Rex and Kay
Brenda, Mike, Gary and Kansas -- Thank you so much for your caring posts and for your insights. Kodi, who was a black Lab mix, was a great deal of support to me since my diagnosis, and the loss is hard to take. But, yes -- we're better off for having had his presence all those years.
Lou, we lost two friends in the months following my diagnosis 3 years ago, the first developed bone cancer and the second was just old. I fault against another addition at first but finally relented march of last year. he now accompanies me in rides around towne in our jeep and never tries to drive, our daily walks, and at my feet when I don't feel so great. he did not make our annual pilgrimage to LBI last summer but hopefully will join us this year. it takes time but finding a new companion makes a huge difference in our battles with this thing we know as multiple myeloma.
jim in sc
I have known for some time that our fur-children are our teachers...starting as children with our first pets who begin teaching us about death and dying. But I continue to be amazed at just how much they teach us. We often do not pay attention but they continue to show us day by day what is really important in life and there is very little that is truly important. I do hope that you get another fur-child very soon...Kodi taught you to be positive and thus have the hope that you will be around for the lessons of a new dog! I believe that you will be!
Hi Jim and Bobbi -- Thanks so much for your insights about how important our pets are to us. Jim - Nicely said about how a dog provides companionship and, dare I say, understanding at some level of one's troubles. Bobbi -- I agree, dogs seem to know what's really important. I read a line (don't recall where) that said: "Dogs know. They just don't know that they know."
Being a MM patient and a doog owner , I was touched by your column. I wanted to shere with you another remarkable story about dogs and what we can learn from them [From a friend's facebook page... :):
A Dog's Purpose? (from a 6-year-old).
Being a veterinarian, I had been called to examine a ten-year-old Irish Wolfhound named Belker. The dog's owners, Ron, his wife Lisa , and their little boy Shane, were all very attached to Belker, and they were hoping for a miracle.
I examined Belker and found he was dying of cancer. I told the family we couldn't do anything for Belker, and offered to perform the euthanasia procedure for the old dog in their home.
As we made arrangements, Ron and Lisa told me they thought it would be good for six-year-old Shane to observe the procedure. They felt as though Shane might learn something from the experience.
The next day, I felt the familiar catch in my throat as Belker 's family surrounded him. Shane seemed so calm, petting the old dog for the last time, that I wondered if he understood what was going on. Within a few minutes, Belker slipped peacefully away.
The little boy seemed to accept Belker's transition without any difficulty or confusion. We sat together for a while after Belker's Death, wondering aloud about the sad fact that animal lives are shorter than human lives.
Shane, who had been listening quietly, piped up, ''I know why.''
Startled, we all turned to him. What came out of his mouth next stunned me. I'd never heard a more comforting explanation. It has changed the way I try and live.
He said,''People are born so that they can learn how to live a good life -- like loving everybody all the time and being nice, right?'' The Six-year-old continued,
''Well, dogs already know how to do that, so they don't have to stay as long.''
Live simply.
Love generously.
Care deeply.
Speak kindly.
Remember, if a dog was the teacher you would learn things like:
When loved ones come home, always run to greet them.
Never pass up the opportunity to go for a joyride.
Allow the experience of fresh air and the wind in your face to be pure Ecstasy.
Take naps.
Stretch before rising.
Run, romp, and play daily.
Thrive on attention and let people touch you.
Avoid biting when a simple growl will do.
On warm days, stop to lie on your back on the grass.
On hot days, drink lots of water and lie under a shady tree.
When you're happy, dance around and wag your entire body.
Delight in the simple joy of a long walk.
Be loyal.
Never pretend to be something you're not.
If what you want lies buried, dig until you find it.
When someone is having a bad day, be silent, sit close by, and nuzzle them gently.
There comes a time in life, when you walk away from all the drama and people who create it. You surround yourself with people who make you laugh, forget the bad, and focus on the good. So, love the people who treat you right. Think good thoughts for the ones who don't. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is part of LIFE...Getting back up is LIVING...
Have a great life.
Hi Shay -- Good stuff...thanks.
Lou,
It was two months yesterday since I first read your words and then wrote you back...I put this article in my "favorites" and visit it often...it helps me to keep the important things in perspective.
Anyway, I am writing today because I am hoping that you will respond telling me that you have welcomed a new fur-child into your family.
So.....??????
Thanks,
bobbi
Hi Bobbi --
Well, another two months have gone by. No new dog. We've looked. I would like to rescue an older black Lab, but so far nothing has clicked. And I'm not sure we're really ready to adopt a dog. I would love to get another puppy and to raise/train him from an early age. But that's a long-term commitment, and a lot of work -- it was almost two years before I felt that Kodi was truly trained. (Trainers who take dogs for their owners and get the dogs to the point where Kodi was take about a year, but that's their full-time job.) I'll let you know how this goes.
Lou,
I understand...I am at that two year point myself...I have been to the shelters but have not clicked with a fur-child myself. I know it will happen though because my heart is open to it and the spirit of the fur-child I lost will make sure it does! I lost mine at a crucial time in my life as well and I think that makes it harder...this is the longest I have ever gone without a dog in my life.
Okay so let's just keep looking and please do let me know how this goes! I believe that those fur-children will join our lives at just the right time!
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