Those words make my heart ache with grief and sorrow. Those who know me closely know how much I loved Kobe. It was unconditional and all-encompassing. He was put down Sunday morning, and I have been sorting through my emotions ever since.
Kobe had a great personality, and there are many things about him that I loved:
- Growling at my dad whenever we ate at the kitchen table, since my dad was always the first to cave and given him a treat.
- Curing up on the carpet.
- Having a dripping wet beard after drinking water.
- Running around manholes because he was scared of them.
- Putting his front two paws on a basketball but rolling off because he couldn't balance.
- Hopping through the snow like a bunny.
- Staring into space (or some times at random objects) when he got older because he was blind and couldn't see.
- Opening Christmas presents with the family.
- Looking haggard and disheveled but making very intense eye contact with you.
- Constantly sneezing because of his seasonal allergies.
- Peddling his feet when we lowered him into his bath - before he was touching the water.
- Waiting for me to come home from school, sitting on the stairs to be able to see out the front door window.
- His red sweater.
One of the times that's hardest for me is whenever I talk about him. I no longer say "I have a dog". It's, "I had a dog." I now have to talk about him in the past tense, and that seems to be what makes it the most real and permanent to me.
I'm still not certain as to how I'll react to this in the next few weeks, months, and even years, but I think there is such an intense grief settled into my heart that I will never truly be able to allow myself to fully experience it. Doing so would surely feel like death itself. So instead, I'll unpack my emotions slowly and cautiously and focus my efforts on celebrating how much he filled my life with happiness.
I love and miss you, Kobe.