Remembering a pet’s passing...

The author of the comics The Oatmeal revealed that his dog Rambo died yesterday. This is the dog which inspired one of his most beloved characters. It was sudden—one day fine, the next internal bleeding from an undiagnosed tumor and gone.

We lost Loki under similar circumstances. He was fine one day, and the next, super lethargic. It was the night before our huge summer party, and we were rushing around trying to get everything done. I remember I “kicked him” (nudged him with my foot, I have never EVER kicked a dog except once when one was attacking my elderly blind pup) to try to get him out of the way, and he wouldn’t move. I looked at Chris and said that something was wrong. Our energetic, eager to please border collie wouldn’t move. I still remember that “kick” and tear up thinking how awful he must have felt for HIM to not be able to respond to my command, even a more forceful one than usual.

We stopped setting up and took him to the emergency vet. We waited and waited. They said it seemed his heart was swollen and they needed to go in to see what was going on. It was going to be hours before they would get him in, and we asked if we could stay, but they told us to go home. I remember Chris hugging him on the floor of the emergency vet and me nudging him to hurry because the vet was standing there waiting on us. I pet our beautiful boy, and told him he was a good boy and we’d see him soon. I still remember looking back, Loki looking confused through the doorway of the surgery and kennel areas as we left him. I am bawling now remembering this was the last time I saw him. Bawling regretting that I rushed Chris trying to love on him for what would be the last time. That I didn’t get on the floor and squeeze him tight before I left. I just walked away, believing he would be okay.

We went home to try to finish prepping for the party. They later called and said they would be keeping him overnight. They found fluid around his heart and would be trying to drain it. We went to bed. At 3am they called and said he had arrested twice already on the table, and if we wanted to come say goodbye, we needed to come now. We were only 10 minutes away, but it was too long. He was already gone.

They let us see him. He was still warm. We both fell to the floor of the large open kennel and hugged and pet and kissed his lifeless body, told him how much we loved him, what a good dog he had been, thanked him for being OUR boy. The next day, we welcomed over 150 people to our house because it was too late to try to cancel. People kept asking where Loki was and we would just shake our head quietly and try not to talk about it. They instantly understood, but had no idea it was less than 16 hours before they arrived. Drink, host, move on. It’s all we could do.

We still keep his ashes, paw print, and collar on our mantle, next to his big sister’s (she died a few years later, almost to the day). He was just the best dog you could hope for. And you never fully get over that loss.

Reading about Rambo passing stirred up all those feels and harsh memories all over again. I know all too well this exact scenario, and it’s only harder on pet parents today who couldn’t even go in with their pet, or come back to say goodbye, due to COVID. A harsh pain on top of an already harsh pain.

Thanks for the memories, Rambo. And thanks for being our Good Boy, Loki.