In Loving Memory of "Big Dog"

Sadly, our Kobe (aka Big Dog, Lumpy Dog, Kobius Maximus, Kobiashisan, Yosh and many other terms of endearment) was put to sleep this evening. We knew it was coming. It wasn't a surprise. But there is a great big hole in my heart where a big black dog used to be. I'm not sad for him. I know this. I'm sad for us - sad that I'll never hear that deep window shaking bark (after all the times I told him to shut up) and the deep guttural rumble he made when he played. He was like a small black bear - with the big fluffy hair behind his head and those long bear claws. I'll miss my "lake monster." I'll miss his big solid warm body and his goofy face, the one cocked ear and his sweet gentle disposition. He was also the biggest marshmallow you'd ever meet and of all our dogs, he was the best with Connor. He would never hurt anyone - and yet everyone who came to the door would ask "He won't bite - will he?"

Kobe would have been 14 on Sept 1st. He has been having more and more mobility problems and his breathing had become labored. It was difficult for him to get off the porch to go to the bathroom, it had gotten difficult for him to get up at all. More frequently he needed help to to get up when lying on the deck or if he laid on the hardwoods. More then once he took a spill on the hardwoods and ended up spread eagle and in pain. Going for a walk around the block (though he enjoyed it) was becoming to much. If we stopped to talk to a neighbor, Kobe's hind end would slowly start to buckle and fold in on itself. The same is true if he got a long drink or took to long eating his food. He could still climb stairs, but if he stopped for any reason he would start to collapse and slide back down. To top it off his hearing was getting pretty bad. He didn't hear the doorbell anymore, just Hattie and Sam barking at it.

Tom and I worked around and with him for over a year. We tried different cocktails of medication to manage his symptoms. We laid area rugs for traction and padding. We raised his food bowl off the floor. But the weakness continued to get worse. Either it hurt to much to squat or it hurt to much to go off the deck, but he started to have more and more poop accidents. I saw all of this everyday. More then Tom. Tom told me a few weeks ago that he thought it was time. But I would look at Kobe and see that goofy face and think one more try, let's try one more thing. This past week he seemed to get worse quickly and he started panting frequently for no reason. Wednesday night I called the vet and Tom and I talked with her and decided this evening would be a good time. I've spent the last several days chalking up "lasts" and saying goodbye. On our last evening constitutional last night, Connor wanted to hold the leash. I wish I could have gotten a picture of my little 11month old blond baby walking my old big black dog along the sidewalk. A memory.

Kobe had a whole ham steak last night and 3/4 of one this morning with two eggs and his last dose of medicine. Tom picked up some beef knuckles and chicken livers. After we took a last family portrait this afternoon Kobe spent about 45 minutes outside in the shade of a tree chewing a meaty beef bone. Then we took one last walk, all six of us, around the block. He was sagging when we got home. Around 3:30 he ate all 2lbs of chicken livers and had his second bowl of milk today (his belly was a little upset.) The vet was due at 4pm but was running a bit late. So I sat with him and pet him and told him again how much we loved him . I let him out front to go to the bathroom and he walked into the garage strait to the back of my car (broke my breaking heart.) When the vet arrived (he still managed one short deep bark when she walked in) I let him out once more and then had him lay on a blanket in his usual spot on the floor at the end of the couch. Even then I wasn't ready. I kept asking Tom if it was the right time. But he had said it the other night, "Jenn, when it hurts to bad to go to the bathroom, it's time" and he was right. I sat next to Kobe as the sedative took effect. Even then the vet said there was something wrong with his breathing (it was loud and labored) because usually they just relaxed at this point. Another indicator we were doing the right thing. Then she gave him a shot of pink juice in his hind leg. Not long after it grew quiet. It was peaceful and though I hurt, I finally knew we did the right thing. We sat with him a bit longer, I took a clipping of his hair and slid off his collar. Then we loaded him onto a stretcher. I helped the vet carry him out (the last thing I could do for him) and placed him in the back of her truck.We pet him a few minutes more before they left, and he was really gone.

Kobe is on his way to be cremated. I know it sound frivolous, but I could think of only one last thing to do for beloved boy. Someday, we will take his ashes back to Oregon, and we will scatter him on Del Ray beach near Seaside. We have many happy memories there. He was such a beach bum. The way he used to jump after a Frisbee was beautiful (he used to shred them, too.) Our first trip to Del Ray beach was also the first time we let Kobe and Hattie off leash after adopting them. We were sitting on the dunes having a picnic and Tom threw the Frisbee for Kobe. He took off. Gone after it and jumped into dead air off the side of the Dune. The first thought through my mind was "He's gone! He just took off, we'll never catch him!" Tom and I dashed after him and he met us at the edge of the dune, the Frisbee folded like a taco in his mouth. His face was covered in white sand and there was sand pouring out both sides of the Frisbee. I think he will be happier there then anywhere. Certainly happier then on our mantel, he spent enough time stuck in the house.

Tonight was very hard. After Connor had dinner we took our evening walk, the five of us. It was painfully obvious someone was missing. It's safe to say that Kobe's absence is just as big as he was in life. The empty dog bowl, the lonely red collar on the coffee table, the extra leash and the empty dog bed in the bedroom (though it was often empty because he liked to sleep on the floor on Tom's side of the bed - I'd shag him onto his bed and then go in the bathroom and he would get up and go right back to Tom's side of the bed.) He always wanted to be close to us. When we first brought them home, Hattie and Kobe weren't allowed upstairs. So, Kobe would lay as close to the bottom stair as he could and for a while, that's where his dog bed was. When they were allowed upstairs, they couldn't come in the bedroom, so Kobe picked a spot in the hall that wasn't so much close to the door as it was close to Tom and I when we were in bed. His love was unfaltering. I felt so safe with him around. I can only hope he felt the same from us and that he was as happy as he could have ever been.