Kenzo: A Love Story

Kenzo, my love, my Boo: April 20, 2012-June 15, 2022

“Where do I begin to tell the story of how great a love can be, the sweet love story that is older than the sea, the simple truth about the love he brings to me, where do I start?” (Lyrics from the song Love Story, in the movie of the same name.)

Kenzo as a puppy

There is so much to say but there are no adequate words to truly say how much this dog means to me and how much I love him and how much I will miss him every second of every day. He came into my life at a very dark time, when I, Siri and Trent were still deep in a dark depression over losing Merlin in September of 2011 and then Kera passed on June 1st of 2012. His “little” furry self was plopped into my arms by my dear friend Jackie, his breeder, with deep gratitude on my part. He was her gift (with permission from me), to help heal our hearts. You can read all about that here in Meeting Kenzo!  His sweet kindness and his sense of humor lightened our pain and enabled us to move forward towards the light again. Our little family was able to smile and laugh once more.

Fast forward to April of 2015 and Siri passed away at 13-1/2, leaving us in sadness again but with my boys by my side, we forged on. I, Kenzo, and Trent even drove all the way to the tip of the coast of Maine together that fall and had an amazing adventure. But we were feeling incomplete and a bit lost. That November, Mela caught my eye on a found dogs site. She joined our family just before Thanksgiving of that year. She and Kenzo played beautifully together until my poor Boo busted his first ACL in January of the next year. But we were still very happy together.

Kenzo (right), mom Nova on left

Then Trent crossed the bridge just after Thanksgiving of 2018 at 14-1/2. and it’s been just Boo and Mela since then. We felt complete. Oh, I occasionally thought about adding but I never had a dog catch my eye. But then she was ripped out of our lives suddenly on Valentine’s Day of this year at only about 7 years of age. And it was far too soon and so suddenly, leaving only he and I, and we were crushed. We tried but never seemed to fully feel normal.

His enjoyment of many things seemed to wane quite a bit initially, but he bounced back more quickly than I did. I did my best to not break down in his presence, saving my tears for in the car between clients and when upstairs, either in the shower or getting the bedroom ready for the evening before heading back downstairs for evening cuddles with him, having ice cream and me having tea and a book, then me curled around his back while he rested on his bed in the living room. During our outings, and even when out in our own yard, it became obvious that he had been motivated to be more physically active by Mela’s endless energy, and that was now gone. There was no Mela crittering while he watched with interest, while lying in the yard, making sure that the neighbors behaved themselves.

I threw everything that I had into keeping him healthy. He had laser therapy every week to ten days, the chiropractor visits 40 minutes away bi-weekly and acupuncture once a month. His appetite never waned. He was my biggest joy, with his always gentle nature and obvious love of life and thorough enjoyment of food and all things edible. His adorable sense of humor made me smile so many times throughout the day. He would throw his head around and “bitch” when I came home while I inhaled his scent with my face in his fur, laying on the floor by his side while rubbing his chest. Our re-connections were one of my favorite parts of my day. Similar to when we said good morning. His “purring” when I kissed him as he stretched his limbs out to greet the day and then threw his head sideways in a sassy “good morning” warmed my heart. His favorite activities included: sniffarris in the park and in the woods; walking/laying in creek/ocean/lake water; laying in any grass and watching the world, whether it be humans or wildlife; and of all nature, he loved snow the most, laying in it, eating it, walking in it, etc.; searching through his snuffle mat; his evening doggie ice cream followed by bully bites; his daily afternoon “alley walk” was usually joyously embraced; he rejoiced in riding in the back of the Armada, like the king he was; “borking” at the neighbors when exiting the back door to his yard “kingdom”; sniffing out groundhogs on our walks; laying in the yard and listening to the world outside of our privacy fence.

Kenzo’s favorite weather

As time went by, I noticed that his bark seemed different sometimes. It went back and forth, and I dismissed it as drainage, like my allergies gave me. But then I came across the term laryngeal paralysis, and he got tested for it and it was confirmed that he had a mild case. It took him nearly a week to recover from what was a mild anesthesia, but he had such a sensitivity to stronger ones, that it was thought that a mild one would be fine. His body handled it but he was sensitive to stress and I feel awful that I stole a week of emotional good feeling for something that never was able to be addressed further, when he was struck down with liver cancer such a short time later. I had asked for a referral for tie-back surgery to see if that was a viable option, but he didn’t make it to even having the appointment scheduled.

The universe decided that I needed further trauma in my life and just about three short weeks after his diagnosis, after a perfectly normal evening with all of our normal togetherness and happiness, he was suddenly acting “off”. He sometimes was a bit dramatic with wanting me to get into bed (instead of on the floor with him when it was warmer) so that he could stretch out where he wanted and go to sleep so I did but I was a bit chastising, and I so regret that now. He kept moving around and he could not get comfortable so I started to worry that he might be bloating so I got up to look at him and he looked “off”. I asked him if he wanted to “go to the doctor” He knows what that means, and he immediately got up. We arrived at PVSEC at just after midnight and they took him right in. I waited hours for a phone call from the ER vet, which finally came at about 4AM. She said he either had cancer or a systemic infection and that I had to decide what I wanted done. Her bedside manner was atrocious, and I was feeling punched in the gut further. I told her that I wanted whatever it took but we agreed to some bacteria drawing and X-rays to start with. Another call when that was complete, and it became clear that he needed admitted and a hefty deposit would be required. She was leaning towards systemic infection, again with an atrocious bedside manner. While not an easy to “fix” diagnosis, it was the better option.

Kenzo’s last walk in the park

I frantically tried to get my Care Credit limit raised (successfully) and reached out to friends for assistance with the deposit. The help that I received was humbling and I will forever be grateful. I was told to go home around 7AM and that “no news was good news” and “please don’t call before 10AM”. At only around 10:30 AM, I answered the phone with my breath held. This critical care veterinarian was much kinder and more forthcoming with information but unfortunately, it was not good news. An ultrasound revealed multiple liver tumors with mets in his abdomen. The prognosis was not good, even with surgery, for which with his sensitivity with anesthesia would be very concerning. I was given the option of allowing him to cross the bridge there, proceed with surgery and maybe lose him on the table or take him home and help him cross at home with an in-home vet. I chose the last option. Losing him on the table wasn’t a chance that I was willing to take and having to say goodbye to him in that setting was just too much pain. So, he left this world far too soon at home, with my arms around him, in the same room that Mela was taken from us so suddenly.

I am now left alone and mourning my two beautiful babies at once, but I am relieved that he is free of the obvious pain and discomfort that came on so fast after a normal evening. I don’t know why the universe is so cruel sometimes but because it cannot be trusted, you must treat every single day as if it might be the last one that you spend with your loved ones. Tell them that you love them all the time. Show them that you love them all the time. Try hard to not have regrets because those regrets will haunt you so many times daily, that you will think that you might go mad. I have not been dogless since the late 90’s and I cannot think of another situation that brings me this much heartache. Your positive energy is welcome. Knowing how many lives that Kenzo touched helps greatly. I want his legacy to be forever. His was a legacy of kindness and compassion and laughter. I will try very hard to embrace that daily. But for now, the laughter is missing. Instead, I will mourn and speak endlessly of how much Kenzo meant to me.

Baby Boo, I will think of you every moment of every day with such love that will be endless. You are together with Mela and I hope that you both show me that you are here with me, watching over me.