Farewell My Warrior
At 5 am Kona was awake and pacing, my husband let him out. He had a long pee, but could not lift his leg and he circled the area several times straining each time trying to go to the bathroom.
My husband fed him and gave him a dose of Tramadol expecting it to take effect within 20 minutes. He came upstairs and told me things were not good and that Kona was not even attempting to come upstairs. I went downstairs and coaxed him over to the couch onto his mat, for the next two hours he sat uncomfortably as I rubbed his front legs. He would manage to lay down for 1-2 minutes, then sit up again. The pattern kept repeating and I kept saying please lie down and sleep – why wasn’t the medication working? Then, as dawn approached, I could see his silhouette clearly and his head was bowed, like a great weight was being applied. It was obvious he was defeated, his body was betraying him. He was so strong and so determined, he did his best to hide the pain, but now the burden was too great. I hugged him and said ‘I’m listening and I hear you’.
We discussed the situation and called out vet, he agreed the time had come to do what was best for Kona. Just after 11 am our warrior parted with his dark passenger and we said a tear filled farewell to our special boy. It was December 21st, winter solstice, the longest night.
I won’t get into the details, except that Kona was a fighter right to the end.
“It’s true, everything that makes you happy is going to end at some point, and nothing good ends well. It’s like, if you buy a puppy, you’re bringing it home to your family’s saying, hey, look, everyone, we’re all gonna cry soon. Look at what I brought home. I brought home us crying in a few years. Here we go. Countdown to sorrow with a puppy.” – Louis C.K