Kali

Two weeks ago I lost my best friend. My sweet Kali was diagnosed with osteosarcoma 3 months ago, and it had gotten to the point where she was in too much pain, even on heavy pain medication. We were forced to make the very difficult decision to euthanize her. She went surrounded by those who love her, stroking her curly black fur and whispering I love you. She went wagging her tail and smiling with her warm brown eyes. As hard as it was, as hard as it is now, it was right that she went the way she has always been - joyful, loving, and full of puppy-like energy, even in her old age. In the weeks leading up to our decision, her limp became more pronounced, her pain more obvious, and her appetite decreased. It was time to say goodbye. Every night for our last few days together, she jumped up into my bed, as hard and painful as that was for her, choosing to spend the rest of her time as close as possible to her family. Although we will never know, I think she was ready, even though I was not. Kali has been my best friend for a decade - from the moment I first met her, and she licked my fingers through her carrier and I slipped her a treat, to our last moments together as she licked the tears from my face. She was my sister, always there for me, always full of love and life. I miss her so much. I miss her warm brown eyes, her curly black fur, and her goofy smile. I miss having her cuddled up in my bed. I miss talking to her and going for walks. I miss having her greet us at the door, and a million other things. I still expect to see her when I walk in the door, or find her sleeping on her bed, or on the back deck. But the worst is when I wake up some mornings and forget for just a second, and reach down to pet  her at the foot of my bed, and then she's not there. I know that I will always miss my sweet Kali, but I also know that the time will come when I can remember her with a smile instead of tears.

Just yesterday, this little girl came into our life: Mika (pronounced Mee-kah), a 7-week-old deaf Great Dane puppy. I was not ready for another dog. I miss Kali every day, and I felt that getting another dog would be a betrayal or a "replacement," and I didn't feel that I would be able to give a puppy the love it needed yet. However, I also knew that it might help in some ways - as long as she was my brothers' puppy, I had limited involvement, and she certainly didn't sleep in my bed. But last night she was too scared to sleep in her crate, so she spent the night in my bed, cuddled up in my arms, making her little piglet sounds. I have fallen in love with this sweet little cuddlebug, and I've realized that that's okay. Kali has taught me so much about love over the years. She always gave her sweet love so unconditionally, and her death taught me that the deeper you love, the deeper the pain, but I would never give up the beautiful relationship we had in order to not feel the pain I do now. Love cannot be destroyed, and Kali gave me so much love over the years. It would be wrong to keep all that love locked up inside because little Mika needs it. I think that Kali would want me to share her love, and doing so is not betraying her, but celebrating the beauty of her gift to me. I love Kali and miss her so much, but I can love Mika too, and how could anyone not love this little cutie?

“Sorrow is how we learn to love. Your heart isn’t breaking. It hurts because it’s getting larger. 

The larger it gets, the more love it holds.” 

Rita Mae Brown