I know from time to time I used to write about how obnoxious my dog was. Well, I sadly have to inform my readers that Kala Ssirika passed away at the end of March.
I originally picked her up at the shelter. I know this is where I am supposed to tell about how my blue eyes met her sad brown ones and we knew it was love at first site. In all honesty, that is just not the way it happened. The first time I saw Kala she was a pound puppy peeing in a cage while her brothers jumped up on top of her, playing around. I didn't even look at her at first.
I wanted a male dog. I'm not really sure why, I guess I just thought that females were smarter and therefore more conniving as pets. (and yes I am thus severe on my own sex) She was short-haired and black. Nothing much to look at. Her brothers were pretty and long-haired, with beautiful grey coloring. I honestly didn't know what a Weimaraner was, or how to go about spelling it for that matter.
All I really wanted was a nice, calm, bigger dog to come lay at my feet and keep me company when I was studying, to make me go on long walks, and to play with as stress relief during long days of RN school.
I had NO IDEA what I was getting myself into...
According to Wikipedia (which we all know is the source of all knowledge!):
"From adolescence, a Weimaraner requires extensive exercise in keeping with an energetic hunting dog breed prized for their physical endurance and stamina. No walk is too far, and they will appreciate games and play in addition. An active owner is more likely to provide the vigorous exercising, games, or running that this breed absolutely requires. Weimaraners are high-strung and often wear out their owners, requiring appropriate training to learn how to calm them and to help them learn to control their behavior. Owners need patience and consistent, firm yet kind training, as this breed is particularly rambunctious during the first year and a half of its life. This breed is known for having a penchant for stealing food from table and counter tops whenever given the chance. Like many breeds, untrained and unconfined young dogs often create their own fun when left alone, such as chewing house quarters and furniture. Thus, many that are abandoned have behavioural issues as a result of isolation and inferior exercise.
This breed of dog tends to be very stubborn. However, with good training, these instincts can be curtailed to some degree. A properly trained Weimaraner is a companion that will never leave its master's side. The Weimaraner has been given the nickname "Velcro Dog", as when once acclimated to its owner, sticks to its owner at all times. Many Weimaraners tend to lean on their owner when sitting or standing, and most will insist on sleeping on their owner's bed unless trained otherwise."
So apparently I forgot to research the breed of dog I was getting before I brought her home. All I knew is that she was very friendly. And she was shorthaired, which would mean less cleaning and brushing for me. I have long since decided that adopting a puppy when in nursing school was perhaps one of my stupidest decisions of all time.
And thus comes the really embarrassing part of my story:
We thought, when we left the pound that she was a boy. Now granted, I do know a thing or two about human anatomy, but when it comes to animals, I would say I am not nearly as confident. In my defense however, cryptorchidism is common in Weimaraners, so my initial conjecture was not completely erroneous... And in the matter of how male and female dogs urinate, I can only say that I took care of a male dog that squatted, so I did not look at that as a clear indication either. I named "him" Demetrius, after this really awesome guy in the New Testament. I was petting "his" belly one day and noticed that something didn't quite match up. Then one day I was rather rudely rocked off my pretty little fantasy world by one of my lovely friends who rather quickly ascertained that "Demetrius" was not in fact a boy. Despite my rather red face at that point in time, it was obvious that I would need to rename the unfortunate young puppy.
So after an extensive afternoon of name shopping (my best friend wanted me to name her Guinevere!) she was dubbed Kala (meaning black in Hindi, because she was most definitely black) Ssirika (which means silky in Luganda).
After almost 2 years of having that huge responsibility of coming home and taking care of her every day, taking her on walks, being limited in my activities because I needed to get home to her its so weird. I come home and there is no whimpering for me, or that scurry of feet on her kennel floor wanting to greet me. I think that's what I miss the most. Its too quiet in my house. I miss that warm little bundle laying on top of my feet (she always had to be touching me if she was sleeping near me) making me feel like an oven. The first few nights I woke up in the middle of the night, and wondered where she had gone because she wasn't sleeping on my feet or on the little rug next to my bed where she stayed when I kicked her out of bed for being too warm.
I miss the fact that she was always there, and having her just come and lay her head on my leg when she knew I was feeling down. And I strangely miss her whining that she needed to go out or wanted me to fill her bowls again; I guess I miss being needed.
I dreamed about her the other night. She was a puppy again and she was adorable and playful and followed me around like a shadow. Strange how a little puppy from the pound can get so tangled up in your heart strings. I always swore that I wouldn't cry when she died, or when I gave her away, or had to put her down. I wasn't going to be that person. But I severely over-estimated the hardness of my heart. She frustrated me to no end sometimes, but she always came back and snuggled with me if I would let her, and wanted to say that she was sorry, and please forgive me mommy! I could always bury my head in her shoulder when I needed a hug and she would stay perfectly still (which was a really big deal for her!). I remember the one time that I hurt my ankle playing in the snow (being pulled on an old car hood behind a truck in a field, yeah, totally safe, i know). She came and stood over the top of me when she realized that I wasn't getting up, like she was going to protect me.
I love that I taught her the stupidest commands like "chill" and "walk nicely" and "go to your room". She actually responded to them, which is funny. I think sometimes that she fit me very nicely, since she was obviously as crazy as me. Well, scratch that, she was actually crazier, but she could keep up with my quirkiness.
I was right about one thing though. I should have gotten a boy dog, because she was too smart for her own good. She new perfectly well how to untangle herself once she wrapped her lead wire around the tree in our front yard, but she would refuse to do it until I came out in response to her barking and told her to. If she wanted to do something she knew she wasn't supposed to, she would wait until I had my back to her or was in the other room. And when she got caught she would hang her head in shame.
She loved peanut butter. And she liked those rawhide bones. She would chew through them in nothing flat. Her and Sage used to fight over them, and steal them from each other all the time. I finally got her a couple of nylon bones, thinking they would be harder for her to chew through. I came home and it was nowhere to be seen. I think she swallowed it whole, because you aren't supposed to be able to chew them in 8 hours. She was just crazy like that! She completely shredded a wedding invitation, a couple cell phone bills, 3 homework assignments (no, REALLY teacher, my dog really ate it!), the zippers to a pair of boots, my favorite pair of Ugandan earrings (wooden rhinos, and they were awesome!), and was endlessly stealing my ponytail holders to chew on! She loved table scraps and would eat pretty much anything I would give her. Except she refused to drink the water in her bowl if it was less than clear. Which was silly, she would drink out of lakes or puddles or the toilet if I would let her, but if she was sloppy and dropped a piece of food in her water dish she would refuse to drink until I dumped that out and got her fresh water. She loved those Pup-eroni slim-jim type sticks. She would do just about anything for one of those!
She would lay spread eagle on the floor in the kitchen in the summer after coming in from outside to absorb the coolness of the linoleum floor to counteract her black coat. She could stand in one spot and jump a good 5 feet straight up in the air; she looked like a kangaroo and it made me laugh every time. She loved kids, and was always eager to play with other animals. She couldn't smell worth a lick though. I let her outside once and there was a huge buck in our front yard about 15 feet from us in the dusk. She never even noticed it.
Her last day I didn't even spend that much time with her. I had been gone in Topeka all day and got home; my best friend was letting her out when she collapsed in front of my front stoop and just started seizing. By the time the seizure was over, she had no function or painful stimulus response in her hind legs and little in her shoulders. Her pupil responses were sluggish and barely there. She had obvious brain damage. We got her cleaned up, and she seemed to be responding a little better for a while, but just ridiculously tired from the seizure. Then she started seizing every 2 minutes and I had to make the decision.
Her eyes nearly broke my heart. They looked so scared and confused as if she was pleading with me to do something and make it stop. But there was nothing I could do. She died that night. It was the most merciful thing really.
I think she really taught me a lot though. She definitely worked on my patience. I think sometimes I would see strange little things in her, and it reminds me of how God must feel when He looks at me sometimes. I know that sometimes I try and get away with things when He isn't looking. And I sit there throwing a fit about the mess I've gotten myself into and God just looks at me and is like, "My dear stupid child! You know very well how you got yourself into that situation, and you know how to get yourself out. Why are you fussing?" And I know that he must delight in seeing me jump like a kangaroo when I discover another truth or blessing He has lavished me with. In times when I think about that, I can't help but smile back and realize that God brings many different characters into our lives that we learn from and lean on for a time, and sometimes those characters have 4 paws and brown eyes. I am thankful for that in God's crazy plan for my life, he took one of my stupidest mistakes and turned it into another beautiful patch in the crazy quilt of my life.
