Sweet Khaki

This is Khaki in healthier days. During Deshain here there is a doggy worship day. No kidding. We didn't stop our staff from spoiling her that day with treats, garlands and the tikka (red powder on her head). We did draw the line at sacrificed goat blood being sprinkled on our car though. Ugh.

We had the vet over last night to either give us assurance that our sweet dog isn't suffering or tell us it was time to euthanize. He said he didn't think she is suffering but thought she didn't have more than a month left. I certainly hope she dies a natural death but don't want her to suffer of course.

When I met Bill and found out he had a dog, I thought "he must be nice guy - he has a dog!". Then I met her and she was mutt - aww - Bill is a really nice guy. Bill adopted Khaki when he was posted in Kenya. She was a puppy picking garbage in a hotel resort parking lot in Nairobi. A woman at the embassy was rescuing street dogs, getting them their shots and adopting them. Her husband finally said "Basta" and she was looking for someone to take some of her dogs. Bill became a doggy daddy.

Bill and I met about three years later. Khaki used to nose between us if we were sitting next to each other on the couch (our canine chaperone:)). After we got married and moved to Prague she became MY buddy. She used to follow me around the apartment all day. We went for long walks through the vast park across the street from our apartment building.

Now life took a serious downturn for Khaki with the arrival of our first born. A friend gave us a copy of Puskhin Meets the Bundle, a story from the dog's viewpoint about the arrival of a little squirmy bundle who steals the attention of his master/mistress. She has been a trooper though - enduring being tugged, "patted" a little to roughly, and being ridden on like a pony. (These were not successful attempts mind you - she isn't that big!)

We aren't sure how old she is. Maybe 14, 15, 16? The last three months she has declined dramatically. She is skin and bones and I am pureeing chicken for her in hopes that she will eat more. We love her. This isn't a eulogy - just a bittersweet reflection.

Cheers to great dogs,

Laurel