Leto's Battle with Canine Hemangiosarcoma

Today, the May 6, 2012, I create my Google blog "Growltiger's Litter Box". 


Growltiger was the name of a beloved cat who died in April 2005, but who lives on in my heart and memory and will always be a part of me. She is not alone. My heart is crowded with pets who left this world all too soon and now reside in my heart with Growltiger.


While Growltiger used her litter box for a specific purpose, my litter box is for the deposit of thoughts, observations, interests and opinions that are part of my life--everything that interests me from politics to tennis to films to introspection to the painful loss of my beloved dog, Leto. Some of it will be interesting to others I hope; some will be boring I'm afraid; if I'm lucky a few articles will be informative. I intend also to post brief excerpts from my three novels including a blast at a publisher which showed interest in one of them, asked for the whole manuscript, informed me it had moved to the second stage but now doesn't even answer my emails. 


Today, I want to share with any readers I'm fortunate to have the heartbreak of losing a beloved animal companion and to prepare anyone who might have to grapple with the devil named hemangioscarcoma for how quickly the end comes. I wasn't prepared. I thought we would have at least a day to say our goodbyes. As it was, he was gone in less than an hour.


On February 21, 2012, our male German shepherd, Duke Leto, Dog of Dune, spent a perfectly normal Tuesday. He took his walk, barked (which he loved to do) and ate a hearty supper, but two hours later, he showed symptoms of obvious distress. Worried, we took him to the Emergency Veterinary Hospital  where he was found to have blood in his abdomen. Ultrasound showed his spleen had ruptured. Since there was no indication that  his heart or any other abdominal organs were involved, we opted for splenectomy (the removal of the spleen). We remained in the hospital until 3:30 a.m. Wednesday morning when he came out of surgery and was in recovery. Only then could we allow ourselves to go home to bed.


Leto spent three days in the hospital, and on Friday, we were called to come get him. The minute he saw us, his eyes brightened and he nearly pulled the veterinary technician off her feet. He was more than ready to go home. On the way, we stopped by Wendy's and got him a hamburger which he wolfed it down like the voracious eater he was until the day he died. Other than the shaved belly and clips that were removed ten days later, there was no indication anything ever had been wrong. 


Six days after surgery, the pathology report came in, and we were hit with the devastating news that Leto had hemangiosarcoma, an aggressive cancer of the blood vessels seen primarily in dogs and primarily in German shepherds and golden retrievers. A tough two days ensued as we had to make peace with the fact that our dog was going to die. He was given two to four months without chemotherapy; nine months with chemotherapy. 


Though Leto had pet insurance with a double cancer policy, we opted not to subject him to chemotherapy when there was no hope for a cure. We wanted what time he had left to be spent with us and his adopted sister, Mystique (a female German shepherd) not at a hospital receiving chemo with it's attendant side effects. 


Leto had a great two months, eight days, and last Sunday, April 30, Leto lost his battle with hemagiosarcoma. He had a fine day. He took a walk, peed on every bush, stone and tree he wanted to mark, tried to apprehend a squirrel, shared a half an overcooked fried egg with his sister, spent the afternoon lying in front of the TV. At 3:55, he was fine. Ten minutes later, he was weak and breathing hard. He had suffered another abdominal bleed, this probably from his liver. We took him back to the vet hospital, hoping there might be something they could do for him, but there wasn't, and we had to make the decision to let him go.


This past week has been painful and difficult. My husband and I have shed many tears, but we know we cannot allow our grief for Leto to make us ignore our other shepherd, so we go on with our life. The "firsts" were the hardest. The night we returned from the hospital knowing Leto would never again be waiting for us. The first morning we came downstairs and he wasn't there to greet us, putting away his bowl, lash and collar, removing the chicken wire from around the flower pots he liked to dig up, when his regular vet called to say he'd teared up when he got our letter saying Leto had died. I'm sure his birthday will be difficult as will Christmas. He was always a part of our Christmas card. But we slowly are emerging from the fog of our loss. Gradually, the happy memories will replace the sorrow, and Leto will join Growltiger, Rommel, Raven, Bubb, Jiggs, Becket, Ch'iang and Digby in our hearts and memories where he will live forever.