Don’t know who Miko is? Look here.
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Friday night was perfectly normal. TV and dinner followed, and Miko helped me eat the chicken on my salad. He curled up at my side to sleep.
Saturday morning, he was gone.
He had left the bed to go into the back room and drift away in peace. At first, I thought he was sleeping. But when he didn’t respond to any amount of noise I made, the horrible truth hit me. I couldn’t bring myself to leave the sunny safety of the kitchen and touch him to verify. I was afraid to. I didn’t need to. I had to.
I had to touch his cold side. I had to help carry him down from my second floor apartment to the back of my friend Joe’s car. I had to give him to the folks at the vet and go back to an empty apartment with an empty heart.
I won’t ever know why Miko died. But I will always believe that it was in some way my fault. A few weeks before, he’d had a scuffle with a dog at the park, but I didn’t think it was a big deal. A few days before, he’d been coughing, but I didn’t take him to the vet. The only indication I had that something was wrong was that he was suddenly glued to my side at night. Most nights, Miko was too hot with his double husky-German shepherd coat to sleep against me. But for that week before he left, he was right there, every night.
And suddenly, I was lost and alone. My best friend and constant companion of nearly five years had left in the night, leaving gasping and sobbing in the kitchen. Apologizing over and over. I was virtually paralyzed with the weight of grief and guilt. It was surely my fault, and I didn’t know what to do, but I was sorry. My heart, my courage, my best friend was gone.
Miko taught me a lot during our short time together. I knew he was smarter than the average bear, from the moment he gave me the eye in the shelter. The volunteer who took him into the exercise yard with us swore he wasn’t very affectionate, but he made her a liar by jumping into my lap and sticking his tongue up my nose. It was love at first lick, even though he wasn’t exactly the dog I thought I wanted. I’m glad I was wrong.
The very first night, Miko dazzled us with a variety of tricks – begging, offering a paw, even the dreaded chin-on-knee trick. We were very easily trained, and he very quickly filled out, and out, and out. Despite reports from the shelter that he wasn’t very good on a leash, that he wasn’t very affectionate, Miko was perfect from the start. Except for the gas. That dog could clear a room with his farts, especially when he was nervous. We were a real hit at the vet.
Without hesitation, Miko moved to Vermont with me and became the radio station’s unofficial mascot. Because I was the only person in the building the station shared from 5 until 8 every morning, Miko came with me. He was more of a chicken than I was, but his company made me feel better when my imagination got the best of me.
He made me brave. This hundred pound lump of dog would squirm his way under the bed to hide if there were fireworks or a thunderstorm. I had to be the comforter, the consoler, the protector.
Miko loved surfing out the car window, wanted desperately to make friends with the horses down the street, and loved any dog bigger than he was. He surprised me by climbing the inappropriately named Mount Misery without a thought of hesitation at the ripe old age of ten. He hated water and loved the park and answered to fifty different nicknames. He saved me from falling asleep at the wheel on numerous long drives with a forceful nudge to the shoulder. He was smart and funny and stinky, and when money was tight, I always made sure he ate well, even if I didn’t.
I wish we’d had more time. I wish I’d taken him to the vet so he would still be with me. I especially wish that I’d never read that Rainbow Bridge poem because it never fails to make me cry a lot. And I wish I could stop feeling like his death was my fault.
It still hurts, missing him. Having him and losing him changed my life in so many positive ways. I know he was happy. He was loved so greatly, so deeply. I may never completely forgive myself for losing him. But he didn’t have to suffer, and I never had to make the choice to end his life for him. And if there really is a Rainbow Bridge, we’ll see each other again there.
And he will forgive me, and I will finally forgive that last bit of myself.