Today’s post was intended to be something entirely different. But last night, when I sat down to work on it, I couldn’t think of anything else. I couldn’t think of weddings, and churches, and pretty gowns. All I could think of was this.
Internet, meet Kira.
And internet, please ignore the mess behind Kira’s head. Actually, let’s just pretend it’s not there.
Some dog owner’s say that they looooove their dog. And don’t get me wrong, some of them do. But to say that I loved my dog would be the biggest understatement of the century. Kira is happiness to me. She is a best friend. A playmate. A therapist. A confidante. We’ve already started researching what mental hospital I will stay at when Kira passes on. Okay, I kid. I kid. But seriously, this dog means more to me than I could ever express in a blog post.
Kira was a rescue dog. A stray – all alone – at only eight weeks. It was a miracle she was alive. They told us she had “beaten the odds.” Just a few short weeks after we got her she was diagnosed with distemper. They recommended we put her down. But, we were already in love. We fought it. We paid lots in vet bills. Fed her by hand. Gave her medication backwards, forwards, sideways at all times of night and day. She survived. A twenty percent survival rate, and she did it. Beat the odds. Again.
It has been years since then. Today, Kira is undergoing a long, intense surgery to fix one of her two bad hips. They will shave her. Anesthetize her. Medicate her. She will be scared. In pain. And I can’t be with her. This breaks my heart. When I dropped her off this morning, I was a hot mess – for lack of a better phrase. I have to leave her all alone. Without me.
And then I stopped and thought to myself: It’s Kira. Kira, the strongest dog I’ve ever met. The fighter. The surviver. All the memories of her puppyhood came flooding back to me and I felt instantly relieved. Today – and even tomorrow – will be hard for her. But it’s Kira. Like always, she’ll be fine.