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| 2002 |
Sometimes Kino couldn't go back to sleep (and therefore neither would I). I would listen to him pace between his bed and the bathroom floor where he would finally ease himself down - gingerly with a few whimpers - and then stretch out on the cool ceramic tile and sleep the sleep of the aging dog. When he couldn't rest, he would lay his muzzle on the bed next to my back and sigh warmly and moistly to let me know he wasn't buying the "I'm asleep" act I was putting on. We would leash up and grab the sling easing his failing hindquarters down the front porch steps. Pausing to sniff the warm night air, he would pull me toward the street so he could walk. Even with stumbling paws and faltering hindquarters Kino wanted to sniff the earth, lap up sprinkler water and enjoy the outside. We would turn back much sooner than he wanted for I knew that if we continued to walk he would be unable to get back home.
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| Water's Edge August 25, 2010 Lake Lanier, Cumming, GA |
Our time together was growing short and I decided in the morning to take Kino to the lake for a last outing. I had been unable to take him out much because of the heat and my own deteriorating condition over the summer. We headed to nearby Lake Lanier. Carrying camera, water, towel and dog from car to the beach had to be done in two trips. I needn't have worried that Kino would do the well-known Siberian Husky trick of suddenly bolting out of sight. His speed these days was akin to an arthritic old man shuffling his way across a crowded dance floor. We eased gingerly down the slope toward the inlet shoreline. The excitement and eagerness in his blue eyes made me wish I had braved the difficulties and taken him on more outings. He laid down panting in the shade of a tree but his eyes kept straying to the water. Up and away we stumbled together - two arthritic companions - he in his winter and me in my fall. Into the water he waded with me terrified that we would fall and both be unable to get back up. We lumbered slowly up and down the shoreline into the water - back to the sand and into the water again. We stayed an hour and a half taking rests and getting up to repeat the water stroll. How my heart ached as I finally struggled back to the car with my old buddy. As we drove away from the water I wept and begged God for peace and strength to do what must be done.
We made one last stop at McDonald's for Kino's favorite treat. After a canine lifetime of watching his weight, what he ate today was irrelevant. During car rides over the last nine months, we had done this five or six times. It was usually one and a half burgers for both of us but I didn't dare try to eat any lunch. I suspected it would be several meals before I felt I could keep anything down. Kino however gulped his first burger down before we were back on the road. We arrived at Dr. Brook's office and I climbed into the back of the SUV so we could sit together. The second burger, strangely enough, wasn't of as much interest to him... but never one to turn down food - he ate it anyway.
We made one last stop at McDonald's for Kino's favorite treat. After a canine lifetime of watching his weight, what he ate today was irrelevant. During car rides over the last nine months, we had done this five or six times. It was usually one and a half burgers for both of us but I didn't dare try to eat any lunch. I suspected it would be several meals before I felt I could keep anything down. Kino however gulped his first burger down before we were back on the road. We arrived at Dr. Brook's office and I climbed into the back of the SUV so we could sit together. The second burger, strangely enough, wasn't of as much interest to him... but never one to turn down food - he ate it anyway.
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| Kino August 25, 2010 Lake Lanier, Cumming, GA |
I eased Kino out of the car and onto his ramp. A few people watched my beautiful, bright-eyed and seemingly healthy, Siberian Husky with the frail back legs. Side by side we sat on the grass next to the veterinarian's office. I placed his bowl down and he lapped up the bottled water we always carried with us. "I can't do this... I can't... I just can't...", I kept saying to myself. But time does not stop - neither do circumstances change just because we wish it so.
Kino and I entered our favorite veterinarian's office. The soft speaking assistant quietly asked to take his final weight. Kino couldn't stand on the scale's smooth surface and he dropped heavily with four legs sprawling in all directions. Placing the padded sling behind Kino's forelegs, I eased him back to his feet one last time and we moved carefully into the exam room. The staff had spread a comforter on the floor. We laid down together nose to nose - I put my face next to his and rubbed his satin-y ears. His youthful black mask and face markings had long since disappeared with age. His face was now snowy white like his chest and forelegs. Oh his cold wet nose! I was past worrying about tears or my lack of self-control. How can he just cease to exist? How can he just not be here anymore? It isn't right. This can not and should not be happening to us. How do I make it stop?
Dr. Brooks came in and bending down to pat Kino murmured "Hi there, boy". I told her I couldn't stay after all. I wouldn't carry away the last memory of my best friend lifeless. She understood and said she would give him a sedative and he would simply fall asleep in ten to fifteen minutes.
I left the exam room but couldn't leave the office. "He is still here, still awake for a few more minutes. I still have a few minutes left with him...", I thought. I returned to the examination room where he lay calmly . A telltale drop of liquid from the injection remained on his foreleg. Kino looked at me, panting calmly, still happy over his morning at the lake and the unexpected burgers. The minutes passed as I lay scratching his head and ears. His eyes began to look a little drowsy and his head nodded a little. He lifted it back up and panted - even more quietly now - gazing back at me. His eyelids started to close. "Kino-bear?" He rested his muzzle on the blanket, breathing softly. His eyes slowly closed - too sleepy to keep them open anymore. I kissed his beautiful, black nose, got up and opened the door. Looking back at my wonderful companion of thirteen years, I could still just see his chest rise and fall. "I'll always love you, Kino-bear and miss you every day for the rest of my life. Say 'Hi' to Rusty and Kalie. I'll be home with you all soon."
I left the exam room but couldn't leave the office. "He is still here, still awake for a few more minutes. I still have a few minutes left with him...", I thought. I returned to the examination room where he lay calmly . A telltale drop of liquid from the injection remained on his foreleg. Kino looked at me, panting calmly, still happy over his morning at the lake and the unexpected burgers. The minutes passed as I lay scratching his head and ears. His eyes began to look a little drowsy and his head nodded a little. He lifted it back up and panted - even more quietly now - gazing back at me. His eyelids started to close. "Kino-bear?" He rested his muzzle on the blanket, breathing softly. His eyes slowly closed - too sleepy to keep them open anymore. I kissed his beautiful, black nose, got up and opened the door. Looking back at my wonderful companion of thirteen years, I could still just see his chest rise and fall. "I'll always love you, Kino-bear and miss you every day for the rest of my life. Say 'Hi' to Rusty and Kalie. I'll be home with you all soon."
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| Going Home Jan 2010 Cumming, GA |
