I almost believe you’ve been trying to tell me something those last few weeks before we last saw each other in person. You started to be more clingy than usual. And by clingy, I mean that you stayed by me on your own accord more than normal. I didn’t call you or mention your name in conversation to summon you. I didn’t have any eye contact or pet you enticing you to follow me. Suddenly, you were just there.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. And I love that you were my shadow pretty much everywhere I went. Having you by my side in your bed when I’m working from home is the best; especially when it’s the end of my shift. You were always so “sleep-drunk” happy when it was time to go downstairs.
That is the biggest regret I have, Kirby. I should have known. As your Momma, I should have recognized it and I did not. And the closer to the trip we got, the more you clung to me. There was no more, “pretend growl” every night when I went to kiss that heart on your head. There was little resistance when I wanted to hold your paw while we cuddled. You even let me clean your eyes and play with your ears. I just should have known.
I recall the last drop-off vividly; knowing it’d be a long time before I’d see you again. You’d always eagerly await being dropped off for daycare, both you and Kira eager to play. I don’t know why I decided to carry you in that day, but as I got to the main door, you were already squirming to get out of my arms. I held you tighter for a bit and told you to wait a minute, remember? You turned your head around quickly and let me get one last nuzzle on your neck, kiss on that heart on your head, and “I am in yours, and you are in mine,” before the staff took you out of my arms. I remember you looking back at me with your happy face as I said, “Be good! Have fun! We’ll be back soon!” And then you were off to play.
That’s the last memory I have of being with you. And it’s been playing on repeat in my head every day. Seeing your face looking back at me with those big brown eyes. You smiling at me before turning forward. Your tail wagging and your left leg hanging down on the staff person’s left arm. I don’t know why I’m so hyper-focused on that moment. Maybe I’m looking for some sign that you were telling me this was the last time I’d see or touch you.
In January when we started having to sit next to you to watch you eat your food, we should’ve known you were telling us something. We should’ve realized your belly hurt, and it was likely that tumor we didn’t know about. And that was likely the cause of your kidney failure. But neither we nor your doctors would know all that information at that time. Based on repeated blood readings, we all thought it was just your kidneys and treated it as such.
By February, two weeks before we were scheduled to leave for our trip, the doctors started to talk about Doggy Dialysis. Truth be told, Kirby … I was terrified at that moment. The thought of any procedure requiring sedation terrified me. And if you needed it more than once, how many times would you be alone afterwards when we were gone for 2 weeks?
Your Daddy didn’t know it at the time, but I felt split in two at that moment. Cancel my vacation plans altogether? Or … Go on the 2-week Australia / New Zealand cruise that my Father-in-Law graciously gifted us?
A glimmer of hope arrived a week before our vacation. Your chief doctor called to prescribe medications before starting Doggy Dialysis, as it was the last resort. They wanted to see if it’d help your kidneys respond and then check your labs in a month. However, they would need to do more bloodwork before starting them.
We miraculously took you in for bloodwork that same day, and the doctor sent prescriptions to the mail-in pharmacy before your check-in for your “vacation.” The medications would arrive the next Monday, and the “hotel staff” were given specific instructions, along with other detailed instructions we discussed before dropping you off.
I hope you know we did our best to take good care of you. We wish we did better with your teeth and your diet. Maybe if we did, you would have lived much longer (and had more teeth). I know you were about to turn 12 in July and that you were reaching the “life expectancy” age range. But I thought we would have much more time, hoped for many more years with you. But I just wasn’t expecting this, now of all times.
Maybe something in my heart knew, or had an inkling but refused to acknowledge it. About 18 months ago when I heard about this trip, I was excited to go; Australia had always been my dream vacation. We felt it would be easy to find a person to take care of you for 2 weeks. Family and friends loved you and would be willing to be your temporary caretakers. But when Kira joined us, we knew it would be too much to ask for them. Boarding you both was our only option, though we never wanted to do it. Leaving you with strangers who didn’t know you and your quirks didn’t appeal to me.
Right before Christmas last year, I started to prep the two of you that we’d be gone for a while. During cuddle times, I would take your head and smooth your entire face – eyes and velvety ears, too – with my thumb. Then I’d look into your eyes to say, “I am always in your heart, just like you are always in mine.” Which I eventually was shortened down to:
“𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒊𝒏 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒏 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆”
That was my mantra to both of you. Or for me. Or whatever. It just helped calm me down.
In reality, it was about a year before the trip that I started to have doubts. That was when you started to get sick. We had just learned that your kidney blood levels were elevated, and we had to start you on a special diet. You ate kibble until you lost your appetite, then we switched to canned food. During this time, your kidneys never improved. After a while, you had no interest in the wet food either, so we added steamed vegetables, which seemed to improve your appetite.
Next week will be 2 months, and I am still struggling so hard to explain to everyone how hard it’s been since you’ve been gone. I’ve tried to write them down in some meaningful way that any person can understand, but everything just comes out hazy and incoherent.
So instead, I decided to write you a series of letters. After all, it’s you that knew me best.
You’ve seen me pour over my laptop, writing on my blog (not lately, though) whenever I felt I had something to say. More so, you grumpily posed and then sat next to me on the couch or bed, while I posted pictures and wrote “stories” of you on Instagram.
Point is, you have always been at my side whenever I wrote something whenever I wanted to share my life experience — whether good or bad, or when being assertive about a particular issue.
You have always been at my side. Curled up in your bed. Next to my desk.
It breaks my heart every time I think of the places you’re not everywhere I go, everywhere we’ve been. Even everywhere we may have shared some sort of memory.
Barking whenever we see cows (“Ma-ooohs”) or horses at the side of the road? Yep. Getting excited when knowing we’re “almost home” from a car ride or a walk? Absolutely.
Saying “Big bed?,” when I’m read to go to bed and seeing you get excited, jump off the couch, and run to the bedroom? Every single night.
Yes, I know that grief will fade in time; and that you will always be in my heart, but as of now, I can’t seem to stay above water. Everywhere I look, see, or touch, I think of you, and I wish you were here. I want my shadow back; I want my bathroom buddy, my toothbrush companion. I want to see you when I step out of the shower, waiting patiently for me to finish up. I want to pick you up and hold you until you squirm your way out of my arms. I want to sit on the couch and have you bury yourself in between my legs. I want to go to sleep with you next to my side on my left hip.
You were my security blanket. The person who made me feel safe. Having you there was such a comfort. I never realized how much you were until you were gone. I miss your greeting whenever we come home from being out, even though I am secretly hurt that you run to Daddy first. Though I’m pretty sure you did that to “punish” me. Omg I love your sloppy kisses of happiness; bad breath and all. It just makes it so much harder as you’re the one being I want to comfort me at this moment. But it’s you that I’m grieving about.
