12/13/1994 – 12/15/2008

I said goodbye to my sweet Kenna today. She lived 14 long, mostly happy years. It was so hard, but in my heart I know it was time. She wasn’t “enjoying retirement” anymore, to quote a good friend of mine. She’d gotten to a point of eating once a day if I was lucky, and half the time that was with me hand feeding her. She lost so much weight and her back legs were too arthritic for her to get up steps or even walk easily. And the smell…oh, the smell. But she was still my Kenna to the very end, trying to chase a stick in the yard this afternoon while I tried to help her enjoy a few of her favorite things one last time.

Kenna was a special dog, and I have so many good memories. I found myself wondering today who’d be the first one in the pool next spring, since she always seemed to know when the water was detoxed enough and would jump in and show up at the front door, drenched, at some point each May. She made sure she was the last one in this year before we closed it, too. She loved the water, whether she was letting Gunner do all the work and then trying to steal a ball from him at the reservoir, or proudly bringing me back a stinky dead fish at Lake Elkhorn, or jumping into the pool as soon as nobody was looking all summer long.

And I thought about what a rotten little puppy she was. Right after I got her, I left her with my boyfriend’s sister while we were in Florida. As soon as I got back, I had a message to go get that ^&*%ing puppy because she’d climbed a toilet and porcelain sink to get into Marnie’s makeup! She cost Josh the security deposit at the townhouse he rented by eating not only the carpets, but the baseboards and even a hole in a floorboard. But she grew up and turned out to be such such a sweetheart. She could be trusted around food, kids, off leash, you name it. She was smart, learning all the basic commands and even the trick of flipping a cookie off her snout and into her mouth when someone said she couldn’t learn it.

I remembered when she had her puppies. Motherhood wasn’t quite the natural instinct I expected for her – she birthed her first puppy outside and went back in the house like nothing had happened. She refused to feed those little things unless I sat there and petted her. Eight wiggly little black furballs to keep track of, and she was no help!

Kenna was with me for so long, and through so many things. Breakups, new homes, marriage, children. There was a long time when I wondered if I’d ever have kids, and then when I finally did, I felt bad that my first baby fell so low on my priority list. But Kenna adapted quickly and was great with the babies. They were propped against her and then climbed her and chased her, and she took it all in stride. She rolled with all the changes the years brought, and always had a knowing look and a soft head for me to kiss when I needed a friend.

I’ve told Don several times that I had her longer than I’ve had him. It’s very hard to imagine life without her. But she was always a loyal and true friend to me, so I owed her my loyalty as well – a life free from pain, and a death with some dignity. Making the call, and the drive to the vet, was one of the hardest choices I’ve ever had to make. I’m beyond thankful for the kindness and gentleness our beloved vet and his staff treated us with tonight. Her death was mostly peaceful – she did snap at Dr. W. when he gave her the first shot, but he quickly forgave her. She quickly fell into a deep sleep, snoring for all she was worth, before the second shot came. I sat with her for a while after she was gone, saying goodbye and wishing we’d had more time. I can only hope that in her doggie heaven, there are plenty of lakes and pools to swim in, and meaty bones to chew on. I hope she’s back to her little truck-puppy self, free from pain and full of energy.

Above all else, Kenna was a good dog, and she will be greatly missed.