Snapshots from Eldredge

The life and writings of TJ Alexian

Tag Archives: dogs


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Journey’s end

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“Once you’ve had a wonderful dog, a life without one is a life diminished.” – Dean Koontz

Kyra had a tough three weeks, and passed on Saturday, December 9.

It’s going to be tough for me to write this entry. I have been putting it off and putting it off because I know how sad I was going to feel. How much of a loss it is to all of us.

Her last three weeks with us were so difficult. She returned home the first night from the hospital whimpering nervously all night long, and while that passed and she was able to start walking around after a while, she was never the same. She became ravenously hungry and would drink like there was no tomorrow. She lost her sight in her left eye and would need to circle around to see anything. She became anxious constantly and would just pace around, stumbling into everything.

Every day brought something new that she couldn’t do. And finally, the night before she left us, we gathered the entire family at the house to spend some time with her, one last time.

Everyone took turns holding and petting her, whispering what a good girl she was. And Theo and Ashes spent some time at the end alone, letting her know much she loved her. Ashes had a particularly hard time saying goodbye. She needed Dan there to support her.

The next day, we tried to give to Kyra as much as we could some of her old rituals.

We took her to Honey Dew for her morning sausage. Only by this time, she couldn’t lift her head up to even see what she was getting, unlike the excitement we would see from her in the past.

We took her for one last walk at her favorite park, although she could only walk a quarter of a lap, this time around.

Theo met us at the vet. And he held her close to the every end, as she made her way across the rainbow bridge.

I can’t write any more. I am too sad. I loved her so much, more than any dog I have ever had grace my life.

Kyra, every day we think about you. Every day we turn the corner, expecting to see you there, trained as we are in the daily rituals you trained us so carefully to handle, mere imperfect humans that we are. This Christmas has not been the same, this house no longer as bright. We have broken down sobbing several times in the past few weeks.

You filled this space with your kind sweet presence and you made us happier through your love and attention. Our world has been better these past ten years with you being here.

I miss your special hugs, every time I return home. I miss that acutely. The way you would let me hold you, and that special sound you would make when I would squeeze you to my side and place my head next to yours. The sound of contentment, of satisfaction, of trust.

Thank you for being the best dog there ever was. Thank you for making this house a home. We will honor your memory and keep your traditions alive, for the rest of our lives. Your shadow will live in our hearts. Forever.


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Mean?

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“Is that a mean dog? That look likes a mean dog.”

Um. Say what?

Okay, I grant you, the lady at the cash register in the drive-through I was at appeared to be a nervous sort. She looked like somebody’s spinster aunt from an old black and white movie; kind of tentative, with large animated hands she was constantly clasping, and an awkward smile that suggested she didn’t get out much. Maybe she had been bitten by a dog at one point.

Even so. My Kyra, looking like a mean dog?

I honestly had not heard that before! And my habit has been to take Kyra with me wherever I go. Usually, people love Kyra, and go on and on about how pretty she is, want to pet her, want to offer her treats (P.S.: she’s a dog, she loves treats).

“Mean? No, not really.”

It must have been clear from my tone I was displeased with the question. Look, I don’t hide my feelings well. I never have been able to. The awkward lady must have sensed that, because as she handed me back my credit card she said, “Oh, look! She’s wagging her tail. She’s not a mean dog at all.”

“No. No, she’s not a mean dog.” With icicles in my voice, I moved drove away.

So we’ve had Kyra for about four months now, and I have to say, I think she’s wonderful. No, really. I am just crazy about this dog. I love her brown eyes and her floppy cock-eyed ears. She’s the most patient, loving pup there is. Never pees or poos in the house. Goes into her crate at around nine, practically without being asked. Follows me around everywhere. And at around six, as we start eating, she is right there on the couch in her special place, ready to watch TV with us and keep us company.

She’s also pretty damn smart, too. She’s learned to sit and stay and fetch, already, and the only one she’s having trouble with is giving us her paw. She’s great off her leash, too, and hasn’t once tried to run away from us. She simply sniffs around and wanders nearby, and when we call her, comes running back.

The only thing I’ve noticed is a bit of timidity around certain strangers, mostly teenage boys. I think that’s understandable, though, given her circumstances. She is a rescue dog, after all, and did see her brothers and sisters get killed by a group of teenage boys in Memphis who thought it would be fun to jump on top of a bunch of puppies and squish the life out of them. I think given that, I’d be a little nervous around boys, too.

Plus, she’s an awfully good snuggler. She just looks up at you with those brown eyes of hers and licks you like crazy.

I guess there dog people and cat people and when you get right down to it, I’m a dog person. Corb says I don’t have as deep a connection to our cats, and maybe he’s right. I mean, I like them a lot, but there’s just something about a dog. Loyalty. Unconditional love. If only she could clean her room, I might even consider replacing her for my kids.

So, mean dog? Not on your life, lady. There aint no mean dog here. Nothing but love!