Ki-Bo

Ki-Bo means hope in Japanese, and that is exactly what he did when he entered our lives. Ki-Bo became part of our family in October of 2006 at four months old. This past Saturday, November 28, at 14 years old, I had to say good-bye to him. My heart is shattered, and I cannot begin to express the sadness and emptiness I currently feel. I woke up Sunday morning and was startled when I did not see his sleepy face lying on his bed. Tears immediately poured out as I realized that I will never again wake up to his snores or his cold snout. I miss him terribly. 

My mom, brothers, and I got Ki-Bo a month after my dad left. A few weeks before my brother Fransico brought him home, our friend Dai helped pick out a name for the soon to be the newest member of the family. I still remember the five of us huddled around the kitchen island, my mom, my brothers Andrés and Fransico, Dai, and me. My mom asked Dai, what the word for hope was in Japanese, he responded, Ki-Bo, and it stuck. 

His first weekend with us, he got stung by a bee above his eye during his first trip to the park. His face was so swollen, but it did not diminish his spirit of curiosity and playfulness. Ki-Bo was not the typical dog that chewed on shoes; instead, he ate plants. He once ate five orchids my mom had bought on sale.  He was bilingual and responded to numerous names, always coming to the person that called him with big happy eyes, floppy ears, and a huge smile. 

Ki-Bo brought life back to our home after my dad left,  with his spunkiness and clumsiness, tripping over his oversized paws. He filled the void left behind by my father. He helped heal the four of us. I grew accustomed to coming home to his happy dance and kisses, making his loss so much more heartbreaking. I miss him, I miss playing hide-and-seek, I miss walking with him, and I even miss waking up at 3 in the morning so he can be let out to pee. 

After twenty months of battling cancer and arthritis, Ki-Bo is resting and in puppy-heaven. I came home Friday to find him lying under the coffee table, unable to get up. I helped him up, but his hind legs gave, and he fell. I thought it was because his legs were numb, but I was mistaken. He lost his ability to walk and was in tremendous pain.  My handsome 14-year-old pup gave me one last wet- cold snout kiss as I gave him his medication on Friday night. He slept through the night and woke up with more pain on Saturday. I called the veterinary's office early Saturday morning and took him in at 9:30 am. He was gone by 10:30 am. 

My house feels different, odd, empty, too quiet. I know it's going to take time for me to become accustomed that he will never again wake me up at 3 in the morning to pee or give me puppy eyes so I can give him some of my food. Ki-Bo may no longer sleep at the foot of my bed, but his essence, his spirit will always be with me.