In memoriam

The summer before I started the fourth grade, we got Ko Ko as a two month old puppy.  At the time, I didn't know that we only got her because tri (black, brown, and white) colored Shiba Inus are less expensive than the light brown ones you see in dog shows.  All I knew was that I loved her, and I wasn't alone.  I mean, it has to be love when you forgive a bite that's tough enough to pierce the foot through a shoe.  She started out as an outdoor dog during the day and an indoor dog at night but eventually became a purely indoor dog after we got Herman, who escaped more often than not when we left the two of them outside.  Since we couldn't just leave Ko Ko out there by herself, she gained access to the house full time, though it wasn't a big change.  Even when she just came in come sunset, she owned the house.  She jumped, sat, and laid on the furniture, slept on my parents' bed, and could often be found lying on the carpet in the central location for the whole house between the front door, kitchen, living room, and hallway.

The family and I said good bye to Ko Ko on Monday morning.  After about sixteen years with us, she hardly had the strength to stand or walk around.  When I petted her, I could feel every angle and curve of her now-bony frame that life once filled out.  She continued to sleep as I did so, further proof that she had lost the senses that would have instantly woken her and indicated that she should bite me.  I thanked her for the countless afternoons she spent by my side, keeping me company as I did homework or watched television or chasing after one of her favorite toys.  Her absolute favorite toy was a rubber seal that she had when she was a puppy.  Up until a year ago, she'd still carry that flat, grayed seal around as her prized possession.  Now, she just laid and slept.

We're left with so many reminders of Ko Ko's presence scattered around the house--plastic bags, flash lights, and sun hats near the front door for taking her out at different times of day, food and water dishes in the kitchen, and a leash and collar that some might say are too old and worn to give to someone who could make better use of them.  I would say that they've been loved so much that we could never bring ourselves to give them away.