A letter to my best friend

In the past, I’ve read so many articles about “why dogs are really man’s best friend,” and I thought of writing a similar kind of blog today. However, it wouldn’t do my best friend justice. This morning, not even an entire day after I got home from Kenya, my best friend since I was 10 years old passed away. So instead of writing a generic blog, this one’s just for him…

Dear Peeky,

I know some people say that dogs don’t really understand what’s going on or what you tell them, but I know you did. Getting you was the product of years of begging and claiming I was responsible enough to take care of a dog, and one moment of fate when Mom and Dad realized you shared the same birthday with Mom. I was nine years old when we brought you home in 2003, and I remember staying up late to lie by your doggy bed and talk to you and pet you. Now, eleven years later and my first night back home after almost six months in Kenya, I found myself saying goodbye to you, doing the exact same thing. This letter is for you, to thank you for being my best friend for 11 years.

Thank you for being the most intelligent puppy from the day we brought you home.

We named you “Peeky” because you’d peek your head over the little cardboard box we put you in and play peek-a-boo with me, already showing how smart you were from the very first day I knew you were mine. You were so easy to house train that even a nine year old (me) could do it, and you danced around the house with me when I celebrated the first time you learned how to use the bathroom on the newspaper in the spot we gave you. You learned your name so quickly, and even more quickly, you learned how to sit, speak, and “twirl” for treats and toys. Fetch was never a favorite game for you, but I think it was because you were smarter than that – instead, you kept me on my toes by making me chase you around the house to get your toy. You’d know how to put on your collar by yourself before walks, and you would get excited when Dad would rattle the car keys because that meant you could go with him to the post office. When I was in elementary school, would wake me up with Booda, your favorite squeaky toy, every morning, and you always knew the sounds of our voices and would rush to the door or your lookout spot on the rocking chair to greet us whenever we came home. Even yesterday, when I knew you were so weak, you managed to pick your head up and twitch your ears when I saw you for the first time since summer. I still expect you to be there waiting for me, and it feels weird knowing that you won’t be.

Thank you for listening to all of my problems and calming me down when I was stressed.

I knew I wasn’t completely insane whenever I whispered whatever was on my mind to you because you’d always tilt your head and look at me with those big brown eyes in a way that I was convinced you could understand me. Thank you for letting me pet you for hours, hold you, and cuddle up against you whenever I was stressed out, even though I’m sure you would rather have not been bothered while you were sunbathing or pulling your blanket around the house. You would even lick at my tears whenever I cried and come to sit on top of me whenever you knew I was feeling bummed out. You were the perfect dog, and I hope you knew that.

Thank you for teaching me to be responsible.

From the very beginning, you were mine, and I had to learn quickly how to take care of you, even though Mom and Dad would always help, especially later when I went off to college. From remembering to feed you, give you fresh water, clean up your newspaper, and walk you, to making sure you could always sunbathe in the morning and wouldn’t climb up somewhere and get stuck when you were a puppy, you taught me responsibility. You were scared of flies, probably because of the loud buzz noises they’d make in your ears, so I’d have to remember to not leave the door open or else you’d hide under the desk in the corner of the room until I killed them. You’d eat any and all food scraps that we’d accidentally drop on the floor, and you’d even jump onto the table to get leftovers if our chairs weren’t pushed in, so I’d have to be especially careful not to let you get away with too much human food. I’ll still probably get worried whenever I’m eating in the living room and accidentally drop a piece of rice or meat.

Thank you for always making me happy and never wanting to disappoint me.

You’d always run around the house and play, and you’d jog the last bit of our daily walk with me whenever I’d say “ready, set, go!”, even though I know that towards the end, you were tired and didn’t have as much energy. You approved of three boyfriends since we brought you home, and they all fell in love with you. (But you also kept them in their place – I’ll never forget how you’d unexpectedly growl and bark and try to protect me every time Michael and I would “play fight.) You took countless photos with me, more than any human being would agree to. You always were so excited to see me, even after months of me being away or after I’d come home from college just to spend all day at the beach – you always loved me and showed it every single day, no matter what. I don’t think I’ll ever be able love anyone as purely unconditionally as you loved me.

Thank you for waiting for me to come home before you went to Heaven.

Since the cancer came two years ago, I had to accept that you weren’t gonna be around forever. You stayed strong though, after multiple surgeries and rounds of chemotherapy, I knew you were a fighter. I cried myself to sleep in Kenya the night that Dad told me that you were getting so weak and the tumor was getting so big. I prayed that you would hold on so that I would be able to see you one last time when I came home for Christmas. When I got home yesterday, it broke my heart to see that you were so weak you couldn’t even stand on your own for more than a second, but you made me smile when you lifted your head to say hi to me when I walked through that door and let me cuddle you and take our usual Natasha’s-home-for-Christmas photo. Thank you for sharing your pillow with me and letting me fall asleep next to you, and when you passed away early this morning, not even 24 hours since I’ve been home, I knew you were waiting for me. Thank you for letting me see you one last time, Peeky. Thank you for being a part of our family for 11 years, and the best dog in the whole entire universe – I know no other dog will ever compare. I love you.

A special thanks to my Mom and Dad, who always took such good care of Peeky while I was away in college and in Kenya, and to Dr. Nishimoto and his kind team of nurses at the Kalaheo Veterinary Clinic for helping my Peeky stay strong and happy until he went to doggy heaven.