R.I.P. Kobe

Our dog, Kobe, had to be euthanized this past Wednesday.  He wasn't acting himself a week before and my mom took him to the vet, who diagnosed him with lymphoma.  He was twelve, at the end of his expected lifespan, and the vet told my mom it was basically the end.  He received some pain meds but the vet gave him a few weeks at most.  By this Wednesday he couldn't walk and wouldn't eat, so it was time.  It was a bummer but expected.

What saddens me most is that Kobe's loss is a break in a time continuity back to when my full family was all alive. We got Kobe as a puppy in mid-May, 2001, right before my father died.  Scott died about six years later, and Kobe himself six years later.  I was able to look at Kobe and through him recall a very different time when we first got him.  His absence for me now dates just how distant that time now is.

Scott and Kobe (May, 2001)

I'll miss Kobe.  Sometimes he would steal the cat food, bite me when I tried to take it away, he barked in the middle of the night, and peed/pooped a little too much in the house, but he was a good dog.  I remember walking him late during lonely winter nights when I home visiting from school.  I was feeling otherwise very alone, and so very appreciative that at those moments he was there with me.  Thanks for the company, Kobe.  I hope I made your life happy, too.