the pause

i was warned by the vet and others that this would happen. i just had a kai-moment. we just came home from the day, and although the hustle and bustle of the daily routine has kept me distracted each day at this time the last week, today there was a pause. and then looking at the spot where she meets me in the foyer when i come home. instead of her enthusiastic tail-wagging and open-mouth smile, i see nothing. i hear nothing. no panting, no collar and ID tags jingling, no chewbacca-like sounds coming from her mouth. only the fan blades swishing through the air and the air conditioning blowing through the vent. the house is still and empty, even though everyone's in it. everyone, except her.

kai, 2002-2011

Dear Kai,

I know there are people out there that see pets as pets, an invisible boundary that separates the people in the family from the animals. What people could tell you, which you already know, is that I cared for you as if you were my child. And I did. From the start I wanted to provide the care and loving environment as I did for the baby that was on her way. You were more than just my pet, you were my family.

Your personality was one I will cherish forevermore. Your cautious nature and how you were always aware of your surroundings. How you excitedly greeted me at the door each day. Your slobber all the time, everywhere. Your playfulness even when no one really wanted to play at the time. Your unawareness of your size or strength. Your need to check if everything was ok when you sensed something or someone was not. How you followed me around the house just to be near. Your sensitivity and preference to leave the room when arguments were taking place. Your mischievous moments of lounging on the furniture while no one was home. Your smile when you were so happy and content. Your breath on my face while I was in still in bed to let me know you needed to go out in the morning. Your intuitiveness about fulfilling an unspoken need of your presence around me during times of sadness.

Throughout my life, from high school and on, I have only allowed myself to count on one thing, me. I am a firm believer that if you want/need something YOU have to do things to help make it happen. But you have taught me to allow myself to count on you too. For being there for me through all the wonderful and difficult changes in my life the last 9 years. Which is why your departure from this earth is so difficult for me. I know you are now in such a better place than this, free from discomfort and the invasion of cancer.  And, I love you enough to garner all my strength to try to sustain my belief in that.  However, in my moments of weakness, extreme sadness washes over me and I miss you terribly. I miss you for me, and that, is not what you were all about. So I hope you can forgive me for my selfishness when it is now your time to be given to. You have given to me your whole life and I hope that my final act of being “your person”, though difficult, has shown you how much I love you and want you to be as content as you have helped make me.  You will always be “Mama’s doggie”, my family, my companion, my constant. And I know deep in my heart that we will once again, be together.

Love you,

Mama