Tomorrow morning I’ll be making one of the more difficult choices I’ve ever made. My Doberman of almost 13 years has gotten too sick to remain with us. An otherwise healthy and active dog, she has succumbed to ravenous cancer and near-crippling arthritis that prevents her from doing much more than just lying down all day. Despite heavy medication, even getting up to use the bathroom causes her to yelp in pain and I just can’t let her go on like that.
Knikki has been with me for almost 13 years. I picked her out of a litter of pups when she was about 9 weeks old. She was the one who, like me, sat apart from the group and watched. Together we made it through having her ears clipped (and my re-taping them multiple times), my recovering from a bad breakup that nearly made me want to give up on life, and she was there literally, when I met my now wife. Together we’ve run more miles than I can count; chased more balls that I can remember and terrified more ducks than can be found in Central Park.
She moved with me to Ohio for a year while I worked a contract job, and then came back to Atlanta with me, where we have lived since. She’s put up with numerous additions to the family, all the while accepting a smaller and smaller amount of my attentions. She’s put up with rambunctious children climbing on her, and an over-exuberant Weimeraner who steals her food when she’s not looking.
All the while she’s been a faithful and obedient companion. And I’m going to miss her terribly.
Lord, if there is a place in heaven for your child’s best friend, please make a place for my Knikki. She deserves it far more than I do.