Dog Days

Whew.  I have definitely had better weeks, that's for sure.  Since it's Saturday (and my birthday--but I really credit my mom for that-I was just there), I can "relax" and forget about my worries. (Then I would have amnesia because I can think of a lot to worry about.) 
          I must be the bearer of sad news--Our faithful, overly loyal German Shepherd Kia, passed away on September 12.  I made the horrible decision of putting her to sleep in light of her back, hind legs, and overall pain.  She lived in our home three years, 1 month, 1 week and 1 day. Though she was with us for that short time, she has seriously touched our lives.  If some of you are saying, well, she was just a dog, gosh, what is the big deal?  Think on this: dogs are excited to see us in the mornings, regardless if you have monster morning breath, hair looks like electricity gone wild, and your pajamas are so hideous your covers try to hide.  They greet us enthusiastically every single time we come home, even if we have just gone to get the mail, or bring the garbage to the big can.  Taking a walk, or running next to us while we ride a bike are simple pleasures they daily look forward to.  If you feed them, well, you qualify as a friend forever.
Kia was a quiet, regal dog who layed around anywhere I was.  If I went upstairs, so did she.  Basement, bathroom, nap, outside, garage, car...she was there.  Walking on a leash was a passion of hers--till her bone on bone hip joints couldn't take the pressure of her weight anymore.    Before this, she was walking 4-6 miles regularly.  Then her hind legs would collapse if she went more than a mile.  And Kia always wore the expression, "What the heck is happening to my legs?  I keep telling them to work but they are not listening!"  When she was first around our rambunctious boys, she would herd them into corners into the family room because they were getting out of hand (she thought).  Then, she got used to the noise and didn't even pay attention after awhile.  Every night, at bedtime, she would get her customary drink (this didn't bode well for me at 2am when she had to use the outdoor restroom), then make her arduous climb up the fifteen steps.  She would lay down on her pillow next to my side of the bed, then when I was comfortable and Shawn was snoring, she got up, then repositioned her body halfway underneath the bed.  So I would hear an ooompft, and I would know she settled into her "spot."  While Kia was a loving, tolerant dog toward humans, she wasn't particularly fond of other dogs.  The dogs and cats we already had in our home were fine--took some time for her to stop chasing the two cats-and then she established herself as top dog so that was taken care of.  However, on walks, it's a good thing she was on a leash or she would have eaten several neighborhood canines.  I do have to say though, while Kia wasn't great with other dogs, she was fine with puppies.  Not super young ones because we never met any, but year old and above-it was like she realized they were just kids and weren't out to get her hide. 
Now when dogs or people pass onto the next life, we tend to forget any faults they had and only focus on the positive things we remember.  This is natural and keeps our love strong for that person.  However, when that dog or person (I'm still talking about dogs here but I'm trying to generalize too) reaches sainthood, I'm thinking that we aren't remembering reality quite as much.  For example, Kia was a wonderful loyal dog.  But she had separation anxiety.  We found that she did fine (mostly) when another dog was with her inside the house.  She was also petrified of thunder and lightning.  In our bathroom, there is a separate toilet area just for the commode--and it's little.  And one night she tried to fit her 65 pound body in there while I was doing my business, thanks to the storm outside.  Or if I was in the kitchen working, she would find the one place to lay which was most inconvenient for me. Like, in front of the stove while baking; or in front of the sink while washing dishes, or next to the fridge when I was putting food away.  For the record though, there weren't many "bad" traits that she had.  (Reality, seriously.) 
Kia loved being with her family (mostly me-because she was my shadow).  She tolerated boating and camping, loved going on walks, sat still for getting her nails clipped (what dog does THAT?), didn't mind being groomed a little bit, loved barking at the neighbors dog, and drooled endlessly over turkey.  (She almost took our thanksgiving turkey off the counter one year-but she kept giving us the guilty look till we shooed her away.)  I miss her company, her guilty looks, her banging on the door to come in to my room, her laying next to Sam, her being excited to see me--I just miss her.  She was a light in my life.  And though each day flies by with all the busyness of life, my thoughts dwell on her being able to now run (and run!) with a body that works, and having no pain to cry about.  Someday, I know, I will see her again.