I took Kaya to the vet yesterday, and found out that she has bone cancer in her left hind leg.

She’s almost 11, and as a big dog, our Rottie has exceeded our life span expectations. She’s lived as long as two of her sisters combined. We lost Mocha at 6 and Ria at 5.

I found myself in tears as the vet told me to keep her comfortable with pain meds, and to watch the leg carefully because the tumor causes weakness and the bone could easily break.

Kaya is one of those really great dogs. I know they truly all are. But this gentle giant has been such a positive force in our family, this is going to be a rough one. Rick and I have lost four of our beloved dogs since we’ve been together, and it never gets any easier.

I woke up early, early this morning and thought about still, how hard it is to say good-bye even when it is so expected. We invite them into our lives, and the years pass way too quickly. We  try to love them as much as we can for whatever time we have them, but it is always never enough time.

I remember picking Kaya up from a farm in Iowa, having chosen her online from a photo of a  litter of four pups. She was to make an excellent sister for our Mocha, a role she definitely lived up to..

She was hard to house train, and that was frustrating; especially the time she took a poop while the Roomba was running, and spread the poop all over the first floor of the house before we noticed.

After an eight-week training class, we had little to no behavior problems with her, and she quickly became the derpy, happy-go-lucky dog we really wished for when we set out to find her.

Kaya was everyone’s bestie - from our most difficult dog, Ria, to our stand-offish Mocha, to our almost-five-year-old, Keeley, who is constantly attention-starved, basically every minute of every day.

Kaya accepted those dogs, just as she did us humans, where we were at. 

No judgement, just pure, unconditional love to give.

She literally just loves everyone she’s ever met, and expects the same kindness and love back. An excellent quality in a 90-pound beast.

Kaya is stoic when it comes to pain, never complaining and never acting out. When diagnosed with diabetes a little over a year ago, we had to learn to give her two shots of insulin a day. She took the shots like a champ, seemingly knowing that we had her best interest at heart, and allowing us to do them without even flinching.  Her diagnosis at the time mirrored my own health concerns, and seeing what dealing with diabetes looked like for her in a way influenced my timeline to get myself to a place where I would never have to deal with it. I am so thankful for that.

Also, in the course of my own life, I inherently have had a lot of love to give, and often had not a lot of places to put all of it. Having dogs throughout really helped channel this desire to love, to expect the best out of others, and then also expect to receive it back without fear of rejection and without judgement. 

Dogs live this philosophy, and that is what makes them so great. They love you, loyally and fiercely, for all of their days - a quality that escapes most humans.

The sun setting on the life of another beloved dog reminds you of all of this. It’s what makes this so difficult. 

I am so grateful for Kaya. Forever grateful,