Kino's Last Sunset (part one-Feb 6, 2014)

My apologies for not writing lately.  It has been almost four weeks since I lost my best friend, and I miss him so much.  You see, Kino was my muse... and my distraction.  He gave me so many interesting experiences to write about, yet would distract me whenever I sat to write about our adventures.  Now that he's gone I have the time, yet perhaps less desire.  Perhaps by writing about our last days it will help the healing process.  I don't expect your readership for your time is best spent on happier endeavors.  But here it is, all the same;  

Kino and Lilly after Kino's bubblebath

Angels belong in Heaven, not on earth.  I suppose that's why our companion animals get whisked away from us so quickly.  They're only here for a short time, to show us boundless love by example, and to give us the courage to entrust our hearts to someone other than ourselves.   Kino was my guardian angel, a mischievous one at that, who showed me how to open my heart and let love in.  His universal acceptance of me with my faults allowed me to shower him with the love I can only express to my most trusted friends.  In the end his loving spirit was so strong that he was able to stay months past his departure date, knowing I wasn't prepared to lose him just yet.  But his body wouldn't listen sometimes, and lately I would carry him where ever he needed to go.  

At first it was the lush, soft grassy area by the lake.  He could sometimes take some steps about with a little help.  Then we would go up the mountain, where he could sit on a blanket in the back seat, listening to me belt out rock and roll from the sixties, seventies, and eighties.  The Rolling Stones would always get us smiling, as he watched me in the rear view mirror.  We'd get out and sit, watch the beautiful scenery, and feel the cool breeze against our face.   He was always interested in sunsets, watching the sun fall against the desert horizon glowing like a distant campfire.  

Since last summer I've been worried about knowing how to determine when his time had come to move on out of this body which was seemingly way too small for the spirit it contained.   While his body failed on multiple fronts his eyes shone like marbles held up towards the sun, and his huge smile always made our world a little brighter.   How would I know when the time was right-would he give me a sign?  I was now feeding him and holding his water dish so he could drink without falling.   Each week we would adjust according to the new, "normal," in Kino's condition so so he could stay with us a little bit longer.  

It was the first days of February, almost a month after his 15th birthday.   His whimpering that Sunday night continued throughout the night, even when I lay beside him on the floor.   He could always communicate so well with us, yet I could not understand what he needed.   I felt so helpless not being to help him with his pain.  

Monday night had fewer interruptions, but when I got home from work Tuesday Kino's front paw was collapsing under him.  This was a big problem since his front legs were his good legs, enabling him to stand for short periods.  We took him to the all night clinic where he also got a shot to help with the severe arthritis in his back legs.   The next morning he had no interest in eating or drinking, and as I drove to work a feeling of panic came over me.   I called Mrs. S to check his status before she left, but it hadn't changed.   I hurriedly asked for time off to drive back home to care for him.  My manager was very understanding, having companion animals himself (rescued as well).    

I mentally told Kino I was coming home, and by the time I got there it seemed he had been  waiting in anticipation.  He was so thankful, giving me loving kisses on the cheek(Kino usually only gives kisses only after persistent requests).    I helped him eat and drink, and I cradled him in my arms as we sat for long sessions on the porch, our yard birds paying no mind as he rested his head against my chest.  The effects of the shot he had received had passed, and we were hopeful he would be pain free.

That night I slept with him again as he expressed the pain he felt.  I tried everything to ease his burden, but he could not sleep.   At four O'clock Mrs. S and I massaged his legs, which seemed to help.  We discussed the inevitable and knew we could not let him suffer.  It was time.   I was laying next to Kino when our decision was finally made.  He lifted his head and gave me wet kisses on the lips,  seemingly thanking us for our decision to let his spirit free.   This was the communication for which I had been hopefully waiting.  He was telling me it was time to let him go.

Mrs. S stayed home Thursday to care for him.  Later that afternoon I brought Kino up Mount Lemmon.   The James Taylor song "Fire and Rain," came on the radio, and his lyrics felt like a rain shower of emotions falling on my weakened soul.  The stresses of the last few week's continual challenges fell down my cheeks like rain off a sloping roof.    At Windy Point Vista a light rain had just fallen, darkening the road's stony surface.  A stiff cold burst of air turned our head around as I held Kino against my shoulder.  It relented for a spell, and we watched our last sunset together, the sky burning like a wildfire against the picturesque mountain-scape.  

That night Mrs. S suggested giving Kino a bubble bath using his dog shampoo.  For some reason it appeared logical despite the fact that he has been averse to baths throughout his life (to say the least).  I carried him into the tub, the soothingly hot water instantly relaxing his tired joints.  He enjoyed it so much we now wonder if, in his next life, he will have an unexplained fascination with bubble baths!   It was only 9:00 but we both fell into a peaceful sleep, side by side on the warm cozy blanket laid out on our living room floor... 

Thank you for appreciating the angels you have around you in your household, your yard, in this life.   When you think about it, if you can't recognize them here, how will you recognize them in heaven?

Continued on next post.