My friend Kino has been with us for about fourteen and a half years now, and it doesn't take a mathmatician to know that time is short. In the past year his age has shown itself, and I've been struggling with the uncertainty of our future in this life. Even with all the advanced warning I am unprepared for the decisions I may have to make, and equally unprepared for the emotional toll I would feel from the loss of my best friend. I am hoping I can finish his biography now while can still watch his loving eyes and mischievous smile, and feel the softness of his fur each day. I have a feeling I will not be writing much after he's left for greener pastures.
I don't think Kino ever accepted his supposed position as a non-human. It seems he demanded the same rights as the rest of our family from the very start, possibly demanding even more. He was not satisfied with a "No," answer, and would even argue the point on more than one occassion. If that didn't work, he could always shine his "magnum," look, which was usually enough to get him out of trouble, especially with the softhearted Mrs. S. Looking back, I always thought of him as a friend and family member too.
Perhaps it was his intelligence. Mrs. S could see it even as an 8 week old puppy at the Humane Society, along with his Alpha complex. Despite my urging to think long and hard before making rash decisions, she went back for a second time, and was hooked. She called and offered to pick me up from work. As I entered the parking lot I saw her cradling her new love and knew there was no thought process involved in this decision, just pure emotion. I had to admit I was hooked too.
Those beuatiful brown eyes, which turn blue with emotion, were always hard to resist. It allowed her to forgive him for all his puppyish mischief, such as when he bit the flower heads off every single one of the plants in her newly planted garden. Or when he would sneak into our rooms and grab our most precious items (or socks), shaking his head as he flaunted them at us to get our attention. If we did not react he would proceed to chew them up right in front of us. He was active nearly 24/7 as a puppy. The only time I could get him to rest was when I held his bone for him on the porch while he chewed. It was only then that he would relax enough to fall into a deep, exhaustive slumber.
