awooo awooo awooo
my brother kana remembers our wee siberian husky-dog, khia:
I sit here this morning, surrounded by five magnificent animals, one of them, Zipper is almost the same age Khia was when she passed. My friend, Paula, had to put down one of her greyhounds, and her other greyhouse was fading and needed to go live with another dog, 'cause she missed her companion so much. I'd read a piece in another blog written from the dog's eye and the sense of loss. Yesterday I played with my one of my friends in virtual space where we bid on a dog and wrote story about that dog; my friend played the game as a way honor a pet passed. I have been thinking of Khia of late; when my friends at the Chicken Ranch lost Irma in the past few weeks, it made me realize that when dogs get on in age, it's up to me to give them hope every day and that joy of days gone by. It's happened quite a few times since Khia's passing where I find myself in the lives of aging dogs. It made me think about pet hospice, but no, I am here to help them live.
The next part might be hard. So, stop here and go walk your dog if you feel the tears coming. I am gonna take the lead from a blog called a Second Life ... and dog named Caesar to talk about that day from what might be Khia's perspective.
Damn. I wanna go outside and snoop down the hill. I know he put me in here because I tend to freak out at the fireworks. At least he put that big comfy bed and pillow and bankie for me to sleep. I can barely see anymore. I know I am going. I was waiting for him. Sure I love hanging with Karen as she puts in another damn tree; she has digging down to a science. She sings to me Awooo Awooo as if know one knows. Shep always put on the gruff military man when it came to me, but he always took care of me, making sure I was brushed and hugged and felt safe. Then, he, my Daniel, came home so they could go on a trip. We had such fun just sitting and watching the lake, scratching my ears. He mades some steak for himself, and gave me half. He always did that, and his Dad would ask what happened to the steak. Even though, past gastric, there is no way, his tiny tummy could take all that meat, he simply say, I ate it. Protein you know. I know he sneezes and gets headaches and is a little allergic to me, but he doesn't care. I love him. He loves me. I am an old dog, an old woman, having seen many things, so my heart is in a good space. (I am watching him right now, as Amie, one of the chocolate labs, a mom herself, decides to crawl up his arm, and say hi ... he treats her so well.).
I sleep for a couple hours. Wake up and sniff around. It's dark in here. I am bit a disoriented. And then, BOOOM... it was so loud. I remember it vividly. Loud, loud. I skitter and get caught on a bucket full of big stick things. I tug and tug. The sticks fall, and a whole bunch of things fall including that chain that makes a big noise. I am wrapped and stuck and can't get loose. I tug and tug...and I am trapped and can't get loose. Another BOOM...I can't. Heavy breathing. Heart racing...Can't get out. Trapped. Help me. I close my eyes and just, close my eyes. Daniel's there, I can barely see him. He is throwing things... opening the door, daylight... I can barely see. He finds the chainsaw wrapped in my collar and gently removes it. He pulls me out into the driveway, my white fur already starting to go grey.
Khia, Khia, he shouts, wake up, come on girlie, wake up. He's crying and shouting, come on, come on. His hand is on my chest, feeling breath. Oh, my boy, it's okay. It's time. No, no. He grabs his cell phone and calls his vet and he says it's an emergency. He doesn't have money to pay the vet, can they still see him. They say no, money up front. So, he calls his sister she says bring Khia into town, she's on the road coming in from the water, his sister telling him it will be okay. He sits with me, I'm on my way. He is frustrated, sad, and angry. It's okay, my boy, my Daniel, it's okay. He gets down into my face, I lick him, his tears. I never lick his face, ever. He never lets me, till this day. My boy, my Daniel. He struggles with me, to put me in the car on the dog bed, the car so tiny. He's gone for a minute most, locking up. Gets in the car, driving one hand on the wheel, the other on my chest. No, no, no. He's crying and driving too fast. Slow down, my boy, my Daniel, I am.
Here the story most people know. It was a crossroads where I died. It was where I-5 meets other freeways. I died on the bridge above water, a view of the mountains, the old Brewery, and the Bridge of Capitol way connecting downtown to Tumwater. His hand was on my chest when I took my last breath. He got out of a car on a busy, busy freeway, trailer trucks rambling by. He is crying and shouting FUCK in the maelstrom of noise. He calls his sister and cries into the phone. She's gone. My girl gone. Gab asks if he is okay. Does she need to come right there? Or should we meet at the vet's? He feels me, I'm gone. My skin grey, my fur lifeless. Gone. But still in his heart, alive and memoried.
This is a human thing. He believes that I am up there somewhere...here.. looking out for kids and moms who died before their time, in the land, like my Inuit name, or "centered sun", where the sun dances on the snow.
I sit here this morning, surrounded by five magnificent animals, one of them, Zipper is almost the same age Khia was when she passed. My friend, Paula, had to put down one of her greyhounds, and her other greyhouse was fading and needed to go live with another dog, 'cause she missed her companion so much. I'd read a piece in another blog written from the dog's eye and the sense of loss. Yesterday I played with my one of my friends in virtual space where we bid on a dog and wrote story about that dog; my friend played the game as a way honor a pet passed. I have been thinking of Khia of late; when my friends at the Chicken Ranch lost Irma in the past few weeks, it made me realize that when dogs get on in age, it's up to me to give them hope every day and that joy of days gone by. It's happened quite a few times since Khia's passing where I find myself in the lives of aging dogs. It made me think about pet hospice, but no, I am here to help them live.
The next part might be hard. So, stop here and go walk your dog if you feel the tears coming. I am gonna take the lead from a blog called a Second Life ... and dog named Caesar to talk about that day from what might be Khia's perspective.
Damn. I wanna go outside and snoop down the hill. I know he put me in here because I tend to freak out at the fireworks. At least he put that big comfy bed and pillow and bankie for me to sleep. I can barely see anymore. I know I am going. I was waiting for him. Sure I love hanging with Karen as she puts in another damn tree; she has digging down to a science. She sings to me Awooo Awooo as if know one knows. Shep always put on the gruff military man when it came to me, but he always took care of me, making sure I was brushed and hugged and felt safe. Then, he, my Daniel, came home so they could go on a trip. We had such fun just sitting and watching the lake, scratching my ears. He mades some steak for himself, and gave me half. He always did that, and his Dad would ask what happened to the steak. Even though, past gastric, there is no way, his tiny tummy could take all that meat, he simply say, I ate it. Protein you know. I know he sneezes and gets headaches and is a little allergic to me, but he doesn't care. I love him. He loves me. I am an old dog, an old woman, having seen many things, so my heart is in a good space. (I am watching him right now, as Amie, one of the chocolate labs, a mom herself, decides to crawl up his arm, and say hi ... he treats her so well.).
I sleep for a couple hours. Wake up and sniff around. It's dark in here. I am bit a disoriented. And then, BOOOM... it was so loud. I remember it vividly. Loud, loud. I skitter and get caught on a bucket full of big stick things. I tug and tug. The sticks fall, and a whole bunch of things fall including that chain that makes a big noise. I am wrapped and stuck and can't get loose. I tug and tug...and I am trapped and can't get loose. Another BOOM...I can't. Heavy breathing. Heart racing...Can't get out. Trapped. Help me. I close my eyes and just, close my eyes. Daniel's there, I can barely see him. He is throwing things... opening the door, daylight... I can barely see. He finds the chainsaw wrapped in my collar and gently removes it. He pulls me out into the driveway, my white fur already starting to go grey.
Khia, Khia, he shouts, wake up, come on girlie, wake up. He's crying and shouting, come on, come on. His hand is on my chest, feeling breath. Oh, my boy, it's okay. It's time. No, no. He grabs his cell phone and calls his vet and he says it's an emergency. He doesn't have money to pay the vet, can they still see him. They say no, money up front. So, he calls his sister she says bring Khia into town, she's on the road coming in from the water, his sister telling him it will be okay. He sits with me, I'm on my way. He is frustrated, sad, and angry. It's okay, my boy, my Daniel, it's okay. He gets down into my face, I lick him, his tears. I never lick his face, ever. He never lets me, till this day. My boy, my Daniel. He struggles with me, to put me in the car on the dog bed, the car so tiny. He's gone for a minute most, locking up. Gets in the car, driving one hand on the wheel, the other on my chest. No, no, no. He's crying and driving too fast. Slow down, my boy, my Daniel, I am.
Here the story most people know. It was a crossroads where I died. It was where I-5 meets other freeways. I died on the bridge above water, a view of the mountains, the old Brewery, and the Bridge of Capitol way connecting downtown to Tumwater. His hand was on my chest when I took my last breath. He got out of a car on a busy, busy freeway, trailer trucks rambling by. He is crying and shouting FUCK in the maelstrom of noise. He calls his sister and cries into the phone. She's gone. My girl gone. Gab asks if he is okay. Does she need to come right there? Or should we meet at the vet's? He feels me, I'm gone. My skin grey, my fur lifeless. Gone. But still in his heart, alive and memoried.
This is a human thing. He believes that I am up there somewhere...here.. looking out for kids and moms who died before their time, in the land, like my Inuit name, or "centered sun", where the sun dances on the snow.