Kush

ser·en·dip·i·tous  /ˌserənˈdipədəs/ adjective

1. occurring or discovered by chance in a happy or beneficial way. e.g. “a serendipitous encounter”

Serendipity: a movie released in 2001, starring John Cusak, and Kate Bekinsale is a romantic comedy about a young man (Cusak) who falls head over heal for a woman (Bekinsale) after meeting and spending a brief evening together in New York city. Before they leave one another, Bekinsale writes her phone number in a book, ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’, gives the book away and proclaims should he find that book again, their love was meant to be. It was, in my humble opinion, a wonderful love story. Years after their encounter, Cusak, feeling the pangs of unrequited love, sets out in search of his true love…I won’t spoil it for you, but it is a must see. 

Serendipity…it’s a fun word, and the most appropriate word to describe how we met Kush over 10 years ago. We did have two Akita’s, brought them home when they were puppies. They were beautiful pups, a brother and sister: Celia (Cece) and Sullivan (Sully), and they filled our home. Almost a year later, we lost Sullivan, due to an unfortunate accident. It was a devastating time in our lives as we dealt with those circumstances. Celia had become much quieter without her brother around; we could feel her sadness some days as she drooped her head between her paws and lay listless on the floor. Deciding she needed a companion we made our way to the animal shelter to find a rescue. As we were introduced to each of the ‘residents’ we were hoping to find a medium sized dog with a mild temperament to ensure they would be comfortable with Cece. The options were slim that day and we figured we would try again at another time. As we left the shelter, my wife received a call from her grandpa. He lived alone and had a couple of dogs at his house, more than he could handle at the time. He had called to ask if we were interested in taking one…he didn’t know we were looking and neither of us had mentioned that Cece needed a companion, so the coincidence was incredible…serendipitous.

We made the drive out to her grandpa’s house and he introduced us to the one he was hoping we would take, a larger black dog, a mixed retriever, maybe a Rottweiler, who wasn’t very interested in us at all. But then Kush came into the picture. A smallish, wiry, black and white speckled dog, a mix between a Queensland and a Chihuahua. Kush was much smaller than CeCe with a lot more energy and a face only a mother could love. As I sat at the patio table, Kush begged for attention until I finally let him jump up onto my lap. He immediately nestled in and lay comfortably, burying his nose in my leg and carefully moving his eyes to the side. I could tell that he was observing my reaction to his affection, like a coy child pretending to behave in return for a special treat or treatment. I immediately felt the ‘old soul’ in his eyes. There was something about Kush. He knew we were there to pick a dog and he was going to make sure it was him. He always had a knowing about him: an instinctual ability to seek opportunity, especially if I was headed to the kitchen. It meant there was a possibility for him to score a snack or, take advantage of any dropped food that he would scoop up faster than I could. 

Kush had been a farm dog, a herder of sorts, capable of fending for himself amongst larger animals and he got along well with CeCe. He established himself as the alpha over a dog 3 times his size with very little need to be forceful about it. He was confident and sure. Kush was faster than CeCe in every way. CeCe would be contemplating a treat laid in front of her and, if she took too long, Kush would just walk up and take it as CeCe watched in confused dismay, tilting her head at the theft that just occurred. They even tussled regularly with Kush making sure Cece didn’t get too aggressive, backing her down when necessary, and riling her up when things got too quiet. Together they did very well and fell into a smooth rhythm of canine life. 

Kush was a howler. Get him going and he would croon with the best of them, lifting his pointy nose high into the air as he belted out ‘tunes’ three times louder than his size would suggest possible. He was always the first to greet me when I came through the door. He would spring up and follow me when I got out of bed, his toenails tapping across the floor in a gentle morning melody. No matter how many times I could go up and down the stairs of the house, Kush would follow faithfully. He was never more than a few feet of wherever I was, especially if I was in the kitchen. He was gentle with kids, except when around the pool. Any sign of someone about to jump in, Kush sprang into action, almost protective in his approach, possibly a neurosis from a past life. Initial attempts to see if he enjoyed swimming were stopped as he made clear, being in the water was not his thing. Whatever it was, he was most pensive and alert around the pool…unless he was basking alone in the sun. He rolled on his back in the gravel that covers our yard and wiggled his body incessantly on the jagged crushed granite. Maybe he was soothing a relentless itch or maybe he enjoyed the rough feeling on his back. Whatever it was, his white fur was usually desert tan from the dust. Before spondylosis (osteoarthritis of the spine) slowed him down, he would never hesitate to jump up on the couch to nestle beside you or jump up and sneak into bed at night. That wasn’t something he was able to do as age took hold of his small body. 

I realize that most dog parents know the joy that their special companion brings. The loyalty, the trust, the funny moments, and even sometimes, a little frustration as their confidence creates a little overreach. So please forgive me when I state the obvious while trying to demonstrate how much that little guy meant to me. While I was sick, I spent a lot of time on the couch. Whether I was reading, trying to clear my mind, or navigating a nauseated stupor, he was there. His warmth, his protection, his faithful friendship was always comforting, always welcome. 

Many, many months ago, Kush began coughing a lot and sometimes seemed to be choking on his own breath. The veterinarian confirmed his heart was in bad shape and suggested we needed to think about comfort and the potential he would not be around much longer. Medication was prescribed and thankfully it worked. For months he consumed a regular protocol of meds that would keep his breathing normal. For months he fought his battle valiantly, never quitting, even chasing rabbits out of the yard, and limping back to his sunny spot once they were gone…I don’t think he was really trying to catch them. Instead, understood my discontent when those rabbits ate my roses or tomatoes and he knew they were not welcome, but they shouldn’t be harmed; just scare them out of the yard. 

Eventually even the meds could not keep up with the deterioration of his heart. The weekend before he would succumb to his illness, he had followed me on a short walk, but could not make it back. I carried his limp body to the house and held him until Kush decided he was fine, springing out of my arms to make his way to his water bowl. I thought he was going to leave me then, but he found a way to keep on living…until the next weekend. Kush could not be comforted by his medication, and I had to make that quiet trip to the veterinarian’s office. It was time. He slept peacefully during the car ride for the first time in many hours that weekend. Kush lived for treats…on this ride, he did not want any offered to him. Kush knew…like he always did. I held him as he was administered his final medication. I felt my breath catch as his stopped, my cheeks wet, heart heavy, helpless, and sorry I couldn’t do more for him. Like the first day we met, his eyes slowly turned towards me, watching my tears…and slowly, his eyes closed, forever. 

I am grateful for that serendipitous day I met Kush, and grateful he was part of my family’s life for the past 10 plus years. I know the pain in our hearts will slowly get better, and CeCe will surely bounce back with extra attention, but I will never forget the love I have for that special friend. 

The theme of the book, ‘Love in the Time of Cholera’ and that silly romantic comedy, Serendipity is, regardless of your age, or your circumstances, it is always possible to experience love. Even at my age, after all my experiences good and bad, at a time when I thought I could weather any storm, my heart broke into pieces when I lost my friend Kush. I believe time and experience cannot harden your heart when your love is sincere. No matter how many times your heart breaks, never let it keep you from loving when you can…embrace it, cherish it, remember it …always.

Love you Kush…