April 9, 1995 - July 8, 2009Waking up and going to sleep are the hardest…her absence most keenly felt. We haven’t had the heart to change a thing, her blanket still in position with her scent still lingering. It is both sad and comforting. I suppose more comforting if I’m being honest.
“Its going to be hard without her but she's given us so much love and companionship that we have to know when its time”Kiawah – alternately known as Binks, Binky, Miss Binks, Kiawahlini, KiKi, Mooshi and lastly our beloved Bird Whisperer slipped peacefully away from us on Wednesday.
On September 11, 2001, shaking as I opened the door and dropping to my knees, she came bouncing into the room, unaware that the world had changed forever, only concerned with greeting me, happy to see me walk through the door. I scooped her up and sobbing pressed my face into her soft fur. Feeling so scared but then also feeling waves of relief and happiness that she provided just from her unconditional love and no questions asked support.
So many memories have flooded my mind as we have gone through this difficult time of her sickness and passing over. Peas, carrots, chips, watermelon, Beggin’ Strips, rope, Baby, Pinky, Woodstock. Squirrels, the park, bedtime, , high fives and dancing, going to Sam and Rob’s, walks, games of chase, tongue hanging out, laying in the sunshine, stickers from the rug, carrying Lucy the Bird in her mouth, digging at the bathroom rug, standing at the water bowl when it was empty... I don’t exaggerate when I say I could go on and on.
This beautiful little soul. So loving and trusting.
She always gravitated to those less fortunate or those who needed extra care. Had she been human I’m certain she would have been an activist – working with the poor, championing the lost cause. She just adored children and elderly people. It was amazing to watch her gentleness when with them. Never jumping roughly always adjusting her approach and touch according to their size or condition.
She entered our lives when we were young and just together a year. A bridge - the time from the last breaths of youth into the hacking call of middle age. Living and knowing my grandparents and Bill’s grandmother and there to comfort us as they passed, the last one being my nana who passed last year. I remember her sitting on Nana’s lap in the hospice center, visiting and making her smile last May. They were a sweet pair to see.
One memory comes to my mind so strongly – before my grandparents sold their home Kiawah and I were visiting them. She was having a run around their yard (something she loved to do but didn’t often get the chance to do off lead) and my grandfather was just getting the biggest kick out of her. As we watched she disappeared behind their old tree and when she reappeared she was carrying a fallen branch nearly 5 times the size of her body! And there she came happily trotting across their lawn huge branch in her mouth. My grandfather, laughing, called out to my grandmother to come and “see this”. It was an awesome moment and a memory that always brings a smile to my heart.
Of course I remember so many other things over the years, some good and other times not so good (when we were in Mexico in 2000 she got loose from B’s aunt who was minding her and went missing for 3 days – this inspired B to write the book “Kiawah’s Big Adventure” and also the time a couple of years back on Halloween when I made the mistake of grabbing her as she was asleep and she bit me – yikes!) all a part of any relationship. But most of all I will remember the spirit of this creature. Her strong, loving, funny, giving, stubborn spirit that refused to ever give in no matter what.
She gave me a love I have never experienced and will likely never experience again. Very rarely do we engage in relationships that provide love unconditionally, truly and purely.
Either one or both of us were with her pretty much round the clock over the last week of her life. Although she had many good moments she was having more and more trouble eating because of the growth of the tumor and she couldn’t see anymore. Neither of us wanted her to hurt herself or feel afraid.
But the good moments they were GOOD. I treasure them now…simply laying on the bed reading while she slept, summer wind blowing in the bedroom while she lay against my leg. That means the world to me now…I am grateful that she got to move and live with us in the new place…the place we decided a couple weeks back to christen “Kiawah’s Treehouse”. She really did love it there and it was a much more peaceful place for her to live her final weeks.
On Wednesday we spent the day with her. It was a good for her…she slept some (we joined her), we both walked her and her flock of birds came to greet her one last time. We sat on the stoop with her and she seemed to be picking up all sorts of great scents on the breeze. The sun shined. She ate the beef pilaf baby food she had come to adore and devour…I got to hand feed her the last bits from the jar. And she sat on the couch with us in the sun…looking regal and adorable at the same time…as usual. And she still had that youthful, puppy energy – she never, ever lost that to the end.
We shared some private time all together. And we left the apartment.
When we got to the City she walked along the sidewalk a good part of the way. She still had some spring in her step and her strong spirit and joie de vie was, to the end, apparent.
When they gave her the sedative and moved aside she looked relieved and happy to see us there. We told her all the things we wanted to, we told her we loved her and what a good dog she was…I looked in the face and told her how grateful I was that she came into my life and that I loved her – and she looked at me and gave me a kiss, something we usually had to say “give me a kiss” to get. But she did it on her own. And then B leaned over and she did the same for him…and then she laid down and gave a huge sigh. The doctor came in and very soothingly spoke as she administered the euthanasia…but we think she had already passed, that the sigh was the moment she left us. She really did look as though she were just sleeping. There she was on her blanket we brought from home…sleeping in an eternal rest.
The tears have not stopped since then. As my cousin so succinctly put it we were “family of three that is now two”, at least in the physical sense. The pain and longing for her are so strong. I know this is what had to happen, while she was able to still do things and understand our love and share hers as well as retain her dignity (as the doctor very wisely pointed out) but it doesn’t lessen the pain and it doesn’t mean I wasn’t thinking selfishly on that afternoon right to the end. Wanting to pick her up and just run away from there…even just for one more day.
Some day the pain will be less and the joy and happiness will return, her memories leading the charge. Right now I mourn and it will hurt for a long time to come. But in a way that hurt is also a comfort because it reminds me just how much of an impact this marvelous creature had on my life…the impact she had on many lives. I’m grateful to have been her dad and I’m grateful to have been in her life.
I will desperately miss her but I will never, ever, ever forget her until I sigh my own last breath.
Fly peacefully my sweet Binks, we’ll see you again one day…
