She wasn't born on the 4th of June, 2004. We've never known for sure how hold Kimo was, but we think she was about a year old when she came into our lives. So June 4th is when her life with us began, and she left our lives so much richer for her presence just over eight and a half years later. It was too soon. No time is ever the right time for death, but nonetheless we were so unprepared to lose her when we did.
Kimo was a truly extraordinary dog. When she is ready, Babs is planning to tell the story of our wonderful journey with the best dog one could ever ask for. Her chronicle of Kimo's life will appear here on this blog. I'll select some of the best photos I can find from our years with Kimo to illustrate the entry. It will be a worthy tribute to true friend.
In the meantime, my eulogy of one of God's best gifts to us: our Kimo.
Kimo was the perfect dog. She had such a sweet personality, and was exceptionally easy to care for. I know that it might not have seemed that way to those who experienced her furious barking when they dared to approach our door, or who had her lunge at their dog in a scary show of aggression as she decompressed after a stressful year and a half alone on Saipan. (I'm so glad that Kimo found peace with other dogs in the months before she died. She stopped seeing every dog as potential threat, and went back to viewing them as potential playmates. She was finally even able to share the Leen's house with her "cousins" Bailey and Shiloh this past Christmas). But for those of us who knew her, she was a dream. She never chewed, never required house-breaking. She wasn't given to slobbering or overenthusiastic licking. She liked treats as much as the next dog, and food left unattended on the table for too long or a kitchen trash can left unemptied all day long while we were at work were temptations even she couldn't resist. But she generally lacked the desperate greedy, quality one often finds in dogs. Indeed, she carried herself with a sense of elegance rare among canines. It was evident in the refined way she would often sit, head up and alert, front legs gracefully crossed. Beyond that, she possessed a soulfulness of spirit and a sort of charisma that charmed everyone she met. She was great with our boys, particularly after she arrived in Columbus from Saipan, patiently enduring Elijah's childish manhandling. Her vices were few--scratching at the door to be let out, and the aforementioned vigilant guard-dogging (though that latter vice we were grateful for as our apartment was the only one on the compound never robbed) . Her passions were few as well--doggie toys, games of fetch and such never had much appeal for her. She was content with a good nap on the couch, a long walk that ideally involved a spate of full on running and lots of poop piles and other doggie smells for her to investigate, and just being close to her pack, her family: Jesco in Saipan, me and the boys, and most of all the one person who loved her like a mother, her human "mommie", Babs.
Kimo was born on the island of Tinian, lived for approxiametly seven years on Saipan, and almost two years in Ohio before her death from cancer at around ten years old. She passed away as she lived most of her life, with dignity and near to the people she loved. Whether we'll ever have another dog, I can't say for sure. I can say that we will never replace Kimo. She will always be missed.
|Last family photo, January 20, 2013. four days before her passing.|