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| Tonya and Kino |
Friday. Our friend Tonya stopped over to pick up Joni for a short day of work. Kino and Tonya have had a close bond this past year, and Kino strained to stand up from the blanket so as to say good bye. It was important for him to have her to see him as healthy and strong for their last meeting this lifetime. The kitties had a sense of the shortness of time together, and would come close to him to say farewell. Sweet Lilly has the closest bond to Kino, always concerned for his welfare, and my heart poured out to her. He was her protector, and she was always waiting a the door when we returned from our outings. As they left Mrs S. eyes welled up with emotion for her loving protector over the years.
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| Lilly and Kino |
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| Daniel Boone and Kino |
After they left I took Kino up Mount Lemmon again. We rocked out to our favorite songs playing on the radio. At times it was hard to keep it together, but his smile would give me the strength to hold back the grief until its time. Some tunes seemed to be played especially for us, dedications if you will, their lyrics having hidden meanings for our day's journey. Some titles were;
"Here I go again on my own""Here I go again," by Whitesnake
"Time in a bottle." "Time in a Bottle," by Jim Croce
"Yesterday" "Yesterday," by The Beatles
"A Horse with no name." "A Horse with No Name," by America
"Two tickets to Paradise."
We went from Mount Lemmon straight to Tino's Pizza, leaving with two slices. Back at home we shared our feast. Kino would climb mountains for pizza crust, and we shared our lunch before leaving again together to pick up Mrs. S from work. He was so good in the car, and enjoyed the forty minute ride. We pampered him with some hot dogs, which he wolfed down practically without chewing. After some time at home, Mrs S went to pick up our daughter while Kino and I took a cozy nap together. At one point he gave me a nervous look as if asking what to expect beyond this life. I stroked his coat telling him mentally I didn't know, having not experience it yet, or not remembering. But I was sure it would be a lot better than staying here. But I assured him I would be with him through the experience, as far as I could go. Somehow I think he heard and understood, and for the rest of the day he made a point to be happy, enjoying the company of his family (myself, Mrs. S, our daughter, and the kitties).
Joni arrived with our daughter and Kino's spirits perked right up. I remember when he used to howl her name with excitement whenever she came in the door, his back quarters swaying with the movement of his tail. We spent some quality time together, talking about life and how lucky we were to have Kino around all these years.
It was almost time, but I had one more place to take my friend. I picked him up and carried him to our favorite recent walking spot, the lawn by the lake. We lay on the soft carpet of thick grass in an area shaded by mesquites against the afternoon sun. We both knew why we were there, and relished our last moments together on this beautiful earth, relaxed in each others company. A sweet breeze brushed against our faces like a mother's sweet loving touch. Kino always loved to sit facing the wind, the air moving his fur about like ripples on a mountain lake. I knew Kino's ripples on our lives would continue way past this day, like sweet memories on a calm day whispered by rustling leaves at the tops of trees.
When Mrs. S and our daughter arrived, Kino insisted on standing. She took our last pictures together on the lawn, the sun beaming down on us, and Kino's smile shining upon us. I sat in the back seat with him on the blanket as we drove to our destination. He rested himself completely against my chest, watching Mrs. S through the rear view mirror. Whenever I look in that mirror I will always expect, or hope, to see his face looking back at me from the back seat, as he would each time we went for a ride.
As we said our good byes I held him close, burying my tears in the fur of his beautiful white mane, so that everyone he meets on his new journey will know how much he was, and is loved by those he left behind. .
Everything went so smoothly the whole day, all because Kino willed it so. It was the best day ever for saying good bye to a best friend. As we drove west the sun was setting on this world. We met my son in law at Lovin' Spoonfuls, and shared memories, and it seemed we were not alone, that his spirit was there, listening, checking to ensure we were okay. Then, partway through the meal, suddenly the presence was gone, off to continue his voyage of discovery, hopefully carried by the gentle winds of our loving memories.
It's been almost four weeks since I saw Kino smile, felt his warm hugs against my chest and shoulder, and ran my fingers through his thick mane. The memories are trying to fade with time, hoping my grief will subside with their passing. But would rather grieve for the rest of my life than to lose the memories of the way it felt to see him smile at me in the rear view mirror, to remember the way it felt to have his head pressed against my neck in a warm hug as I held him close, or even the way he would lean against in total trust as held his bowl up. There are so many fond memories. Some say there's a heaven after this life but I don't buy it. I can't see anything that would measure up to my expectations. Besides, it seems so crowded, doesn't it? And I'm definitely not a city person. But, then again, when Kino and I shared our time together, as best friends, brothers, and comrades in this crazy life...Well, that was enough heaven for me.
"Two tickets to Paradise."
For the last two songs I recorded myself singing to Kino and his rhythmic breathing to the lyrics. I will only torture you with my singing of the latter, though. Just press play, if you dare.
We went from Mount Lemmon straight to Tino's Pizza, leaving with two slices. Back at home we shared our feast. Kino would climb mountains for pizza crust, and we shared our lunch before leaving again together to pick up Mrs. S from work. He was so good in the car, and enjoyed the forty minute ride. We pampered him with some hot dogs, which he wolfed down practically without chewing. After some time at home, Mrs S went to pick up our daughter while Kino and I took a cozy nap together. At one point he gave me a nervous look as if asking what to expect beyond this life. I stroked his coat telling him mentally I didn't know, having not experience it yet, or not remembering. But I was sure it would be a lot better than staying here. But I assured him I would be with him through the experience, as far as I could go. Somehow I think he heard and understood, and for the rest of the day he made a point to be happy, enjoying the company of his family (myself, Mrs. S, our daughter, and the kitties).
Joni arrived with our daughter and Kino's spirits perked right up. I remember when he used to howl her name with excitement whenever she came in the door, his back quarters swaying with the movement of his tail. We spent some quality time together, talking about life and how lucky we were to have Kino around all these years.
It was almost time, but I had one more place to take my friend. I picked him up and carried him to our favorite recent walking spot, the lawn by the lake. We lay on the soft carpet of thick grass in an area shaded by mesquites against the afternoon sun. We both knew why we were there, and relished our last moments together on this beautiful earth, relaxed in each others company. A sweet breeze brushed against our faces like a mother's sweet loving touch. Kino always loved to sit facing the wind, the air moving his fur about like ripples on a mountain lake. I knew Kino's ripples on our lives would continue way past this day, like sweet memories on a calm day whispered by rustling leaves at the tops of trees.
When Mrs. S and our daughter arrived, Kino insisted on standing. She took our last pictures together on the lawn, the sun beaming down on us, and Kino's smile shining upon us. I sat in the back seat with him on the blanket as we drove to our destination. He rested himself completely against my chest, watching Mrs. S through the rear view mirror. Whenever I look in that mirror I will always expect, or hope, to see his face looking back at me from the back seat, as he would each time we went for a ride.
As we said our good byes I held him close, burying my tears in the fur of his beautiful white mane, so that everyone he meets on his new journey will know how much he was, and is loved by those he left behind. .
Everything went so smoothly the whole day, all because Kino willed it so. It was the best day ever for saying good bye to a best friend. As we drove west the sun was setting on this world. We met my son in law at Lovin' Spoonfuls, and shared memories, and it seemed we were not alone, that his spirit was there, listening, checking to ensure we were okay. Then, partway through the meal, suddenly the presence was gone, off to continue his voyage of discovery, hopefully carried by the gentle winds of our loving memories.
It's been almost four weeks since I saw Kino smile, felt his warm hugs against my chest and shoulder, and ran my fingers through his thick mane. The memories are trying to fade with time, hoping my grief will subside with their passing. But would rather grieve for the rest of my life than to lose the memories of the way it felt to see him smile at me in the rear view mirror, to remember the way it felt to have his head pressed against my neck in a warm hug as I held him close, or even the way he would lean against in total trust as held his bowl up. There are so many fond memories. Some say there's a heaven after this life but I don't buy it. I can't see anything that would measure up to my expectations. Besides, it seems so crowded, doesn't it? And I'm definitely not a city person. But, then again, when Kino and I shared our time together, as best friends, brothers, and comrades in this crazy life...Well, that was enough heaven for me.
I still hear the lyrics of "Thunder and Rain," every day even when the radio isn't playing. Now that I've lost my friend the song brings back the closeness, worthwhile even with the pain. And I still hope, someday, that I'll see him again. Until then, whenever I hear the rustle of leaves on a windless day, I will remember the sweet memories of my best friend, Kino.
I remember seeing a card once, with a picture showing Australian shepard mix dog trotting away down an unpaved country road. I loved the card since it resembled Kino, and I could picture his ears bouncing up and down in rhythm, as when I watched him happily trotting in front of me on our walks. The caption read "All who wander are not lost." Some phrases speak volumes, don't they?
Thank you for appreciating life, and those we share our hearts with in this brief moment, a millisecond in our world's long and interesting life.
I remember seeing a card once, with a picture showing Australian shepard mix dog trotting away down an unpaved country road. I loved the card since it resembled Kino, and I could picture his ears bouncing up and down in rhythm, as when I watched him happily trotting in front of me on our walks. The caption read "All who wander are not lost." Some phrases speak volumes, don't they?
Thank you for appreciating life, and those we share our hearts with in this brief moment, a millisecond in our world's long and interesting life.
Fond memories with Kino over the years;
The day Mrs. S picked him at the Humane Society, and brought him to my work to show me. I took one look at her face and knew she had fallen in love with another "guy." So had I.
Holding his rawhide and carrot sticks when he was a tiny puppy and too small to hold it.
The day he learned how to lift his leg to pee-Yeahhhh!
The day Kino found the kittens in our yard-protectively sitting up by their den.
The way he would help with our yard work, laying casually on top of the dirt piles.
The way he stole our socks when he wanted attention, wagging then in front of us.
The way he would swing and throw his toys (including my socks), with extreme accuracy I might add.
The way he would walk away initially when I grab his harness, then get excited for his walk once it was on. He loved to be difficult.
Wrestling with him in the living room.
Watching him open Christmas presents. He loved Christmas!
Watching him huff and puff at the fish in the lake, who in turn loved to splash the water as we passed by on the shore.
The way he took on the role of protector in our family. And the way he let me stand in front to protect him (from a loose threatening dog).
His excited greeting for our daughters, his howl sometimes saying their names.
His affinity for removing newly planted flower heads.
The time we raced on a horse path, and, just as I thought "I still got it after all these years!," my hamstring snapping, sending me face down in, how do I phrase it"horse path."
The way he would sleep on our bed, by our feet, for as long as he could jump up on the bed.
His sixth sense of knowing when we brought a toy home from the store.
The way he howled like a wolf when the phone message came on, alerting us to the call.
Brushing his fur, especially his main. He would always fidget but I knew he loved it.
Laying on my lap after his baths, wrapped in a towel, totally relaxed with a zen-like peacefulness about him.
His sweet expressive cinnamon eyebrows.
Watching him attack plant containers as a puppy, knocking them about the porch.
His cinnamon eyebrows which always gave him special treatment.
The vet saying he looked like a tiny prince laying on the red pillow.
Always eagerly greeting us when we came home.
His ESP, always knowing when I would be arriving home.
His soft cheek kisses which usually took some coaxing.
His fits when any squirrel, hawk, or roadrunner came into the yard.
The way he would get excited, huff and puff, while running circles around the living room.
The way the kitties treated him like a big fluffy cat, sticking their tale in his face as they walked under him.
Watching him experience snow for the first time.
The way he knew when it was the weekend and wanted me up early to go out with him.
Running my fingers through his fur when I was having a bad day, and feeling suddenly so much better. He reminded me the most simple, yet most important aspects of life.
Our long walks to a distant lake, laying down and watching hundreds of Purple Martins come in to roost for the night.
The way he herded our cats out of room whenever someone came to the door (for their protection of course).
The way he would argue with you if he had a difference of opinion.
The way we always knew what he wanted to communicate to us.
The way he would run to us for support when Daisy smacked his nose (gently-w/o using her claws). She was Kino's first trainer in living harmoniously with cats.
The way he would wait while Daisy drank her water, wagging his tail hoping she would finish. Of course his behavior would make Daisy intentionally take more time drinking until his patience would run out and he would gently nudge in to get a drink
On winter nights sitting down next to you on the porch floor, leaning over in a "hug."
The way he would still make it to the bedroom to sleep with us even when he could hardly walk.
Our trips to the lake when he was older, helping him to walk on the soft grass.
Our trips up Mount Lemmon, singing to Rock and Roll!
Wonderful blog post. Sorry for your loss.
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