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Sweet Kobi is gone.

On Saturday his battle with cancer ended after a day full of hiking, love and treats.

Ron and I took Kobi to Robert Burnaby Park and spent a few hours hiking around with him. He was deliriously happy. He ran around with huge tree limbs clasped in his mouth; he dug at rocks in the stream beds and submerged his head under the murky water to look for those elusive rocks that seemed to hide on him when he dropped them from his maw. He never wandered far from us constantly trying to see if we were still with him, his eye sight almost gone now and his hearing nearly as impaired.

Ron and I choked back tears and held hands. It seemed impossible that this was the last hike.

Kobi was so happy – we took a zillion photo’s and in almost all of them is the lab grin and lolling tongue covered in bark, earth and moss, broken teeth…

We walked to the vet clinic where they inserted a catheter and administered a sedative to calm his natural lab verve. The three of us walked home like drunken sailors. When we got home, Kobi laid down in his favorite spot by the dining room table and rested, still with that grin. Ron and I laid on the floor with him crying and stroking his velvet pelt, whispering love in his silken ears. Our wonderful vet and gentle assistant arrived and we all sat on the floor with Kobi. We placed him on a cozy blanket and Manju and Susan told us what to expect.

When they administered the drug it happened so quickly. One minute his lovely liquid brown eyes were glued to mine, so trusting and full of unconditional love, the next they were empty. His spirit flew from his body and we were left alone in grief with his rapidly cooling body in our arms. I tried in vain to close his eyes but they would not shut.

We were not in the room when they took him away. I had his collar in my hands and it was wet with the recent foray into the stream and my tears. We heard the door shut and our home suddenly was so very empty.

I think even harder than letting our Kobi go was having to tell our young children who had never experience death before. Our five year old Maxime crumbled and we were all back there on the floor again with Kobi, holding him, his spirit, his tenacity, his youthful demeanor and slightly crazed personality.

We are grieving and trying to help out children grieve. Teaching them, holding their hands as they seek out Kobi in his usual sleeping place, under the table, on the landing of the stairs, by the green velvet chair in the family room, nose in fridge, barking at the back door to come in, by the fire in the living room, amongst the toys in the playroom, kids ball in mouth, the mad chase…time will help and eventually we will be able to remember the above with fondness and thankfulness instead of such heavy pained hearts.

I keep thinking I need to feed him, walk him, let him out, let him in…I keep thinking I am forgetting something…

Sleep well my lovely insane Kobi – soar and be free and we will once again meet by that stream bed you so loved.