“Dogs’ lives are too short. Their only fault, really.”-Agnes Sligh Turnbull

 

My Interpretation: It is not a fault; it is a heartbreak. They do not outstay their welcome, do not grow bitter or distant. They just give everything in the small stretch of time they are given. & that is what is the cruel part of it. They teach us how to love without conditions, how to be soft in a world that demands hardness, how to stay even when the house feels heavy – & then they leave. Not because they want to, because their time runs out before we are ready to stop needing them. & honestly? That kind of ‘flaw’ makes them more perfect, not less.

---

I have not written this week. Not because I did not want to – but because my heart’s been living somewhere between my throat & the space behind my eyes, trying not to fall apart every time I look at my dog.

 

Koby is not just a dog. He never was.

 

He is my first real adult dog. The first living creature I raised entirely on my own. The one who learned my moods better than most humans. Who noticed my tears before I even felt them fall. Who stayed soft in a world that tried to harden me.

 

& now, I am watching time try to take him.

 

I got the call. Lymphoma. Fast-growing. Aggressive. The kind that does not wait for your heart to be ready. The kind that shows up like a thief, arrogant & awful, & demands that you start saying goodbye in pieces.

 

But I am not writing this post to talk about grief. Not entirely.

 

I am writing to honor the soul who has made survival feel like something more than just waking up.

---

Koby has been my left wing.

 

He is the one who howls back when I sing like an idiot in the car. The one who “talks shit” when I sass him first. The one who looks at me like, “Seriously, homie?” with those judgmental, soulful eyes only a best friend can get away with.

 

He is my shotgun rider.

 

My adventurer. My trail buddy. My midnight footwarmer. The reason I have pulled over just to sit in silence. The one who has seen me unravel & did not flinch – just laid his head on my lap & stayed.

 

& yeah, he is bougie. The pickiest eater I have ever met. Turns his nose up at basic treats like he is above it – because we do not do peasant snacks in this house. But he is also a lover. The most tender-hearted beast I have ever known. He kisses kids gently, leans into touch, & walks through this world like it has not earned his softness – but he gives it anyway.

---

Koby is not gone yet. But I feel the clock ticking. I am being forced into the position of grieving someone still alive again. Yet, having to also compartmentalize it at the same time due to being a mother.

 

& it is killing me.

 

Because he is not just a dog – he is part of me.

We are one & the same.

 

Losing him will be like losing part of my own ribs. The quiet part that still believes in unconditional love. The part that still expects the world to be kind sometimes. The part that always had a warm shoulder when everything else felt cold.

---

I do not know how much longer we have.

I do not want to count days.

 

But I will spend the rest of his making sure he knows this:

 

That he was never just a pet.

That he taught me how to be patient, loyal, silly, & safe.

That he is the reason I have gotten out of bed on more days than I care to admit.

---

To my left wing:

I am not ready.

So just stay – a little longer.

Stay until I have memorized the way your breath sounds when you sleep.

Stay until the love outweighs the grief.

Stay for all the quiet moments that still have your name in them.

 

You have never needed words to love me right.

So, I will not use too many now.

Just this – I see you. I feel you. I love you.

& I will not waste a single heartbeat while you are still here.

 

Forever & Always will you be my “Perfect Pumpkin.”

 

 

Xoxo ♡