The Loss of A Friend

Do you have childhood memories? I have a lot of them. They are sad, they are funny. I remember my childhood friend with special tenderness.

I remember when we first met, she came in to the hall way as a 8 week old puppy, her legs longer than her body could handle – she was sliding about – it was like watching Bambi on ice. A childhood delight.

When we first made eye contact with each other, me as a little girl, her as fresh puppy, we instantly knew we were to be the best of friends.

The adventures and mischief began quickly and they lasted the whole twelve years. I didn’t matter how old we both got, we always managed to entertain each other.

The entertaining didn’t always end with joy. Walking Kimba down the canal I began to notice her back claws scrapping the ground – a little sign of arthritis – this was confirmed by the vet. She didn’t let her condition get in the way of any of her behaviour, the only way you could tell she had the condition was the massive struggle she fought every time she stood up, usually after a long lay/sit down.

One day I was awoken by a loud crashing sound, I jumped to see what it was, it turned out that Kimba had be trying to stand up, but she couldn’t and she just collapsed.

After witnessing her struggle to even stand up, me and my mum stayed by her side while she lay on the floor, from 3.45am to the time we had to take her to the vets, at 9.00am. While we were waiting with her, she again tried to stand up, but to no avail. this happened a couple more times. It was so bad, this loyal dog of 12 years embarrassed her self my relieving her bladder on the bedroom carpet. It wasn’t her fault, it was no ones fault.

While we were waiting to go to the vets, we sobbingly suggested the idea of putting her to sleep, we both knew this was her time to go, and I think she did too.

We managed to help her downstairs and we began to notice her behaving in a way we have never seen her behave, we knew there was something else up with her, it was more than just her back legs going.

Before we left the house for the vets, the rest of the family were informed that Kimba was unlikely to return home. The family all said their good byes, tears flowing like the heavens just opened.

We arrived at the Vets. The vet gave her the check over – he knew what to expect as my mum had called them in the early hours – and straight away, he noticed her eyes. Apparently, during the night she had suffered some sort of nerve attack (We can’t remember the name of the attack, it begins with an L?), he said it was quite remarkable and extraordinary that she had even manged to stand up, never mind walk.

This was the Kimba we knew, a natural, born fighter.

The vet gave us the options, they were either to put her to sleep, or to try giving her a pill and hope for the best – the pill had no guarantee. Me, my mum and the vet all agreed the best option was to put her to asleep – considering her age. My mum and I both agreed to stay with her while she was put to sleep. We were both crying uncontrollably, comforting her, stroking her and just generally being there for her.

The injection went in, and within a matter of seconds she began to fall a sleep.

We began stroking Kimba, I don’t know why, it just seemed natural and it was a way of saying thank you for being the best pet the family has ever had. I hope she knew that. I’m sure she did.

I kissed her lifeless body goodbye and managed to mutter the words “thank you”.

Kimba, you were part of more than half of my life, you were one of the most intelligent and loyal dogs I have ever come across.