Category: My Tribe

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Dear Kirby (Part 10)

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This brings me to why it’s so hard to explain to others why you are extra special to me. Especially from our other pets. I felt that you were ours, the minute you were in my arms. The warmth of your chest, the slap of your tail on my right arm, the complete happiness you exuded. I don’t know why, I just knew. And somehow you became something more than just a dog. To me, you became my spirit animal. You became part of me; part of my spirit. Someone I had to nurture and love and continue to make happy because you made me so very happy. It had been a long time since I felt that happiness. 

You gave me something to look forward to every day. I knew I had everyday responsibilities to tend to, which I did because — well, that’s just life, right? But you gave me a reason to wake up. You and Daddy. Those really were the only reasons to get up in the morning and put one step in front of the other. Since we couldn’t have kids, you became OUR son. Our lives revolved around you and spending as much time with you. Even vacations became road trips, just because we wanted to take you with us everywhere. That’s why flying to the other side of the world without you AND Kira was not a simple decision for us. I suppose that might be how couples with preschool-aged children probably feel when going on a long vacation without them. 

I don’t think anyone, not even past infertility friends/couples who have found closure with their dreams of having a family (either with or without kids) can truly understand this. I’m generalizing, of course. But even though I didn’t give birth to you, I feel we share the same spirits; we embody parts of others that we can feel each other’s emotions. One that really embraces the whole “I am in you, you are in me” part. Maybe a “Mother’s Instinct”? Which if that’s so, I obviously failed.

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Dear Kirby (Part 7)

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We checked in daily with your caretakers to ensure you and Kira were well. We called to ensure both the two of you were having a good time and we often looked for photos of you on their Facebook page (they didn’t record videos, which I thought was wise when we chose this place). The pictures confirmed you were both happy and playful. Mostly, we called to see if you were eating. They told us that both of you were playing hard and having so much fun every day; however, they were struggling to get you to eat, Kirby. By the third day, all of us were worried because you looked so weak. Dad and I — for lack of better words — were freaking out, so we asked them to take you to the doctor. I’m sure you were terrified because it wasn’t us taking you to see your doctor. 

We received a call shortly after from one of your Dogtors stating that you were very weak and that they weren’t able to do anything in their office. We then asked if you could be taken to the Emergency Vet. This meant another car ride to another place without us, your pawrents. 

I was panicked thinking about you going there. I imagined you being driven to a new place with unfamiliar doctors performing new procedures on you without someone familiar to comfort you. I wanted to be with you so badly and I felt so gutted that I couldn’t just teleport my way back home to you. 

That especially hit hard when the emergency doctor called us later on — which happened to be just as we were departing on our 14-day cruise. We were told you were extremely dehydrated with acute pancreatitis and that the immediate plan was to give you fluids overnight and monitor your response. She said that you were very weak, but if you recover well overnight with the IV fluids, you should be strong enough to eat on your own. She also is the one who discovered your large slow-growing belly tumor which was likely the cause of your kidney issues. 

Regardless, I just wished I was there to be with you and support you; to encourage you to get better. Instead, I was now on a ship. In the middle of an ocean. On the other side of the world. With a 16-hour time difference.

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Dear Kirby (Part 6)

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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. 

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Dear Kirby (Part 5)

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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.

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Dear Kirby (Part 4)

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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.