xoxo, me

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Colorado, United States

Thursday, March 12, 2020

A Thousand Little Things

Adopting Koko at age 6 was an impulsive decision. 

I saw his cute little mug on the Dumb Friends League (Denver) website and just knew he was the companion for our recently adopted Kizzie. 

When we visited with him at the shelter I quickly realized this guy was going to be a handful. He had arrived at the shelter matted and neglected so save his adorable little face, he was completely shaved. He was a little hyper, a little crazy so actually I was a little hesitant about adopting but my husband was all in. So ~ the adventure began. 



And what an adventure it was! We had very little information about his first six years so we were basically starting from scratch. Two weeks in I knew I was going to need some help. He didn't know how to walk on a leash. He was very hyperactive and constantly barking. Oh, the barking...  At meal time he would jump and knock the food bowl out of my hands ~ like he was starving. I had never experienced a pup like this. I needed help.


Enter Dog Trainer extraordinaire, Yukari, who taught me and taught him how to deal with each other.  She spent 18 months with us and became a part of our family. He learned to sit before he was fed. He learned when I said, "Leave it" he wouldn't chase the bunny. He learned when he didn't bark at another dog I said, "Good boy, good job!" and he would sit and get a treat. He learned to control a little of his anxiety. But not all. Some bags were never unpacked. 


He loved watching TV (which led us to believe he may have been left alone with the television a lot in his previous life). But if an animal appeared...


he went bananas. So we got quite adept at muting or changing channels. If anyone dared walk by the house he let them know they were trespassing on his property. 


He knew when a storm was coming. He could feel the drop in the barometric pressure and would begin panting and shaking and pacing. He was scared of thunder and lightning and wind. He was almost inconsolable. The Thundershirt looked cute but didn't help.


 When the phone rang and we said, "Hello" raucous barking would ensue. 


Because he thought someone was coming to the door. Same thing happened if the doorbell rang or my husband called me "Cin" rather than Cindi (we never figured that one out) or the garage door opened or a dog walked by or a truck drove by or a leaf flew by. We just learned to tune it out. He liked to mark his territory so we lived with puppy gates. Everywhere. 

He loved being outdoors. In any kind of weather.







Most of all he loved hopping in the car and going to the Park (barking all the way).







Running was his favorite thing in life. Don't ask me about the three times he escaped the house off leash and ran and ran and ran. And gave me instant heart attacks.





He may have been 6 years old when he joined our family but he was a puppy until the day he left us. He loved tossing his toys in the air and pretending to play fetch. He would bring the toy back to me but rarely let go.





The life of our "Little Man" (as he came to be known) wasn't all fun and games. He had wonky knees (luxating patella) and required double knee surgery, followed by three months of physical therapy. It was then that we saw exactly how strong our Little Man could be. 

  


He looked a little funny for awhile but he made a full recovery.


That wasn't the end of his physical issues. A couple of years ago he was diagnosed with heart disease. He was prescribed daily medications and occasional visits to the Cardiologist.


And true to his fighter spirit he handled it well. But the worst was yet to come.


In August of 2019 Koko was diagnosed with lymphoma ~ and a fairly aggressive form at that. After conferring with an Oncologist he began weekly chemotherapy treatments for 19 weeks. So he was a regular at the animal hospital and charmed the Oncology Team on a weekly basis.




He finished his weekly chemo and was declared in complete remission and a Chemo Rock Star!


Sadly remission lasted only a month. Two additional chemo treatments were tried, to no avail. Our Little Man, our strong fighter, our trooper lost his fight on March 9, 2020.

He was our best boy. Our Koko Bean, Koko Loco, Our Little Man.





He was everything to us ~ and we to him. 




You taught us a thousand little things. And every day there are a thousand little things that remind us of you. Remind us that you are no longer here. A thousand little things that make us laugh, make us cry. A thousand little things that let us know there will never be another you. 

Now Little Man you can run free. Run free, run fast, run with love. 


How blessed we were to know you. Thank you for choosing us. 




Sunday, February 16, 2020

I Carry Your Heart in My Heart

How lucky I am to have had something
that makes saying goodbye so hard. 
*Winnie the Pooh*

We said goodbye to our girl on Valentine's Day - and somehow that seemed fitting. Because Kizzie was all heart. Gentle, sweet, loving - that was our girl. She was the epitome of love. 💝

Her name was Kismet because we felt meeting her was meant to be. It was... kismet. That was a rather formal name for such a little dog, so she quickly became Kizzie. 


It didn't take long for her to learn that in her new home she would have a camera in her face about 50 times a day. She was known for her Mohawk hair style and her expressive ears. She became quite astute at turning away (or running away) when she saw the lens coming at her. So I learned to snap quickly.




 Kizzie wasn't a huge fan of cold and snow and in the later years when I opened the door to snow she would turn right around and go back in the house. However, in warmer weather she loved a nice stroll in the park. 



She tolerated dress-up for picture day now and then, especially at Halloween and Christmas time.






Six months with Kizzie and we decided she was such an easy going dog - this was so easy! - that she needed a brother. His name is Koko and he was about the same age as Kizzie - 6 years old. He has a lot of energy...


And he could be a little annoying sometimes.


But all in all, he was a pretty good pal.




They tolerated Christmas photos - complete with costumes.



On March 17, 2017 (St. Patrick's Day - apparently Kizzie had a thing for bad news on holidays) she was diagnosed with an enlarged heart and we were rushed off to Animal Emergency. When the final diagnosis came in we learned she has tricuspid valve dysplasia and severe pulmonary hypertension. In layman's terms - a bad heart and very bad lungs. For the next two years she would undergo countless echocardiograms, ultra sounds, x-rays and twice sported a Holter Monitor. That little vest had electrodes hooked to her chest and for 24 hours everything related to her heart was recorded. It was uncomfortable but she wore it like the trooper that she was.
In fact, she was a trooper thru all of the procedures and endured taking up to 9 medications, three times a day. 


In November of 2019 a mass was discovered on her spleen. It would be tricky to do any further procedures. If her spleen were aspirated to learn what was going on with that mass and she started to bleed out, immediate surgery would be required. We felt she could not survive surgery. So being fully informed and with support from her medical team, we chose, other than her daily medications, to not proceed with any further treatment. She had been thru enough.

From there we felt like she was in hospice mode. We saw a decline in her weight, appetite and energy level. I baked chicken for her and wrapped her meds in Velveeta cheese (after trying many, many methods of medication delivery). Her walks became fewer, her little furry face was white with age and she spent a lot of time sleeping. We carried her to bed and she slept with us every night. 



I didn't know when I snapped this photo of Kizzie that 24 hours later she would be gone. I think she knew, though. That day, February 13, she followed me everywhere - up and down the stairs, from one room to another. And when I sat still her eyes were always on me. I recall even asking her, "Kizzie, what are you trying to tell me?"


Fast forward to the next morning - the morning I found her stuck in a corner not knowing how to get out - that I started suspecting this could be a bad day. She wasn't interested in breakfast or taking her meds. This had happened before and usually if I waited for her to act in her own time she would eventually eat. 

As the day progressed, however, I realized this wasn't going to be one of those times. She was unsteady on her feet, she kept getting stuck in corners. My heart sank now knowing what she had been telling me. She wanted to let go. She needed me to tell her it was ok to go. 

I swooped her up and lay on the couch with her for a better part of the afternoon, her little limp head resting on my shoulder. We both dozed off. By the time Charlie came home and spent an hour with her, we both agreed - she's not going to make it thru the night.

Cradled in my arms, wrapped in the "goodbye blanket," surrounded by so many who loved her, Kizzie quietly and gently drew her last breath. 

How blessed we were to have known her. What an honor to have been chosen to be her caretakers. She will always be a part of us. 


Her name was Kismet. And she was ours. 

I carry your heart with me.
I carry your heart in my heart.
*ee cummings*