kenzi.
i’ll take you back to the beginning. it’s cathartic for me, and it’ll give you the full spectrum.
in late 2016, i got a call from my Grandma telling me my mother was sick and i needed to do something about it. the problem was i had spent my entire life trying to “do something about it” and the sickness wasn’t anything i could do anything about. in the simplest terms, my mother was drinking herself to death.
i was living in Michigan at the time and she was in Ohio. i had not seen her in years, which i wasn’t necessarily proud of, but the alcoholism was absolutely taking over her life and there was quite literally no place or space for me there. so i loved her from afar. until i was called in, so i went.
it was only a short two hour drive from my door to hers, and i left almost immediately. when i got there, i saw a mother i hardly recognized living alone after losing her husband to cancer, withered to no more than 70 pounds, helplessly trying to ride it out. i don’t even know what her plan was… i asked her if she wanted to live and she told me yes, but her habits told me otherwise.
i remember asking her what i could do for her. i told her what i really wanted was to take her to the hospital and get some real help, but she refused. we made a deal: i would take the dog that wouldn’t stop barking and annoying her and peeing all over the floor (aka… asking to go outside, not being let outside, so relieving herself in the house…) and she would get her things together over the next week so that i could come back and take her to get some help.
i’ll save the rest of my mom’s addiction story for another day – i took the dog that night and she was mine from that day forward.
the dog i took in that night was not the dog i came to know and love. on day one, she was 48 pounds, eating the worst dog food imaginable, hardly able to walk without panting, filthy, ear infections, urinary tract infection, and i would learn within just a short week or two, a large collection of bladder stones and crystals. this girl was a wreck. a sweet, wagging wreck.
the first thing i did was take her for a walk. she made it the length of one block before laying in the middle of the street, unable to continue any further. the water i bathed her in was brown within seconds. she wreaked of smoke and all things stinky dog. she certainly was a project.
when i tell you this girl was a “human dog,” i truly mean… she couldn’t have cared less about other dogs. she didn’t hate them, she just didn’t care. she loved humans, and for whatever reason, she really, really loved me. sometimes i’d think it was because she thought i was my mom, but whatever the case, Kenzi (renamed Kenzi after the church i used to attend in Michigan, Kensington…. because her original name was Windy… which seemed more like a bodily function call out than a dog name to me. so i changed it…) didn’t care to be anywhere i wasn’t. she’d whine, bark, cry, run, hobble, climb… do anything possible to get to where i was. i have to admit, it was wildly annoying at times, because she was completely inconsolable even in times when it wasn’t even possible to be together…
she also had ACL surgery somewhere in these seven years. the only thing Kenzi loved comparably to humans was racquetballs. i can’t tell you this dog was particularly athletic, but when it came to chasing racquetballs, she could really turn on the turbo! one day we were at the dog park and i routinely tossed a racquetball for her… she chased it… she yelped…. she limped…. and then she would not put weight on her back foot whatsoever – a completely torn ACL and an $8K bill to fix it. i think anyway… this dog was so expensive, sometimes i lose track of what it all costed. probably because i didn’t really care… it’s not like i’ve ever been rolling in money. i just didn’t think twice – she needed the surgery and i paid the bill.
i knew Kenzi was declining. it’s likely she was battling liver disease of some sort, cancer or some sort, and arthritis all over… she had good days and bad days, but her walking kept getting progressively worse and worse and i knew the day was going to come soon. she fell down a complete set of stairs a few months ago, which was really hard to swallow. i kept telling her, “you just tell me when you’re ready, and we’ll be done.” i kept seeing the time come sooner and sooner every time i looked in her eyes. every day kept getting harder and harder, every meal kept needing more and more coaxing, every bathroom break required carrying to the yard…
i had a phone call with my good friend and vet… thank God for meeting this human. truly. she said two things that made me realize we were at the crossroads. 1) “is she having more good days than bad days?” to which i did not have to hesitate – the answer was no. 2) “i’d rather put a dog down a month too soon than a week too late,” and i knew we were teetering right there in that butter zone… so i knew i had to make the decision.
even though i saw the signs. even though i knew it was coming. i still wasn’t ready. i could never be ready for the actual day or the actual moment. i’m grateful for every minute i got to spend with Kenzi. she was with me through a lot of stuff – she just laid and comforted and snored and made me laugh and clumsily walked her way right into my heart from the very first day i met her. but it was time to let her go. and i just wasn’t ready.
i thought it would be easier because almost exactly three years ago, i love Cooper. but it wasn’t. i thought it would be easier because she wasn’t “technically” mine… but it wasn’t. i thought that knowing it was time for her would make it easier, but it didn’t. i miss her. but i know to my core we made the right choice. but i still miss her.
i used to think it was odd that dogs so easily become part of the family. but now i get it. we don’t deserve them – the way they love us so unconditionally. the way they teach us to try and do the same. i’ve got no one to blame but myself for not figuring it out. Kenzi was so good at it – i really learned a lot from that dog. the way she couldn’t hold a grudge even if she tried. the way she was excited every. single. time. i came home, regardless of whether it had been 2 minutes, 2 hours, or 2 days. she just couldn’t get enough of hanging out, palling around, exploring, cuddling, just spending time together. to the world you might be one person, but to your dog… you’re their whole world.
