What my dying pup Kobi taught me… Kobi was 10 years old when he contracted meningitis. The infection moved rapidly around his spine and brain causing him to lose complete sight in just a few days. My ex-husband and I had joint custody and he dropped Kobi at my home on a Saturday morning. Our little dog appeared terrified, sick and confused. Little did I know he would pass in less than three days. It was during those three days that he taught me to listen. I learned to connect with him and listen.
The first thing I wanted for him was to feel my love and ease his fear. I wanted to let him know I was here for him and I would help him through this. I held him on my torso while I lay on the couch and gently stroked his back—something I had done many times. Then I listened for any insights I could get from him. I could feel his fear and confusion. Slowly he calmed to a gentle pant. After a couple of hours came a calmer rest.
In an effort to ease his fear, I decided to tell him everything I was about to do. “Kobi, let’s go out to pee.” Then I announced “Kobi, I am going to pick you up now!” After hearing this several times, he started to arch his back in preparation for me to pick him up. It was working. I was listening and connecting with him and he was hearing me.
“Kobi, you are on the couch!” “Kobi, you are on the floor!” “Kobi, here is your water!”(I put lemon juice in the water so he could smell it) “Kobi, here is dinner!”
This went on all day and it worked great. I could hear and see that he was calmer.
Sunday we woke up and, again, I laid him on my torso for reassurance. He was off, seemed worse; I could almost hear him telling me he felt sicker. During dinner I heard him wince while eating his food. When I heard that, I knew he was in pain, scared and confused. I reassured him all day and night, all the while keeping him close, listening for anything new and continuing to announce everything I was doing. I couldn’t do anything about the pain or blindness but I could keep him calm and, hopefully, less confused.
Sunday night I set him up in bed like I always did and together we fell asleep. Monday morning I woke up, knowing, hearing him almost say that today was the day he would pass. It crossed my mind that I would have to put him down. I didn’t want to face it. I got up, turned on the coffee, went to the bathroom and came back to retrieve him and his brother to take them outside to potty. It was too late. He had arched himself on the bed when I announced I was picking him up and had already peed. I got them both outside, then cleaned up.
I wanted to stop listening. I didn’t want to believe today was the day. I wanted to believe that his blood work, coming back today, would give us the answers needed to medicate him and heal his pain. However, the energy in the house was extremely heavy and I could only hear him telling me how sick he was. I ignored it the best I could but couldn’t stop feeling the heaviness.
The vet visit didn’t produce much information. The blood work showed nothing. We were referred to a neurologist for an expert opinion. During the exam I sat in a chair as the doctor examined my little angel. I leaned my head against the wall, knowing, hearing my little angel tell me how sick he was. I surrendered to what I was hearing and seeing.
The neurologist explained it was probably meningitis or a brain tumor or both. This caused the blindness and all the other neurological symptoms he was having. We got our meds for the infection and we were on our way home. I was trying to be optimistic but in reality I was avoiding Kobi—hoping he would get better.
I set him up at home with water and a place to sleep while I went for a run/run away. When I returned home he was standing next to his bed looking blindly around and listening for me. I was heartbroken to see him like this.
I invited a friend over to help me through this difficult period. By this time the medications had been in his system for a couple of hours—steroids, medicine for the infection and a Xanax to keep him calm. I was holding him on my chest when my friend arrived; I was relieved to pass off my angel so I could cook dinner for us and avoid listening to the reality of the situation.
Cooking dinner and cleaning the kitchen was my distraction. I was able to distance myself from what was happening. He was getting sicker by the minute.
As I fed Kai, his brother, dinner, Kobi appeared interested in food so I gave him a little to eat, then I took him outside for an attempt to use the bathroom. He was all jelly with no coordination. I picked him back up and held him against my chest. He draped his head across my shoulder reminding me of a goose, with its long neck, resting there, something he had never done before. I could hear how sick he was and feel it now. The awareness was so loud and uncomfortable.
He was really restless making all kinds of weird sounds as he uncomfortably struggled in my friend’s arms. All the while I could hear him calling for me. I avoided it. He threw up all over my friend, the couch and himself. I had had no choice but to rush over and clean up everything.
After cleaning, I swaddled him in a towel like a newborn baby and handed him back to my friend. I tried to look at Netflix, more avoidance. I dropped my chin to my chest as I heard Kobi calling me. I couldn’t avoid him any longer.
I phoned my ex-husband asking him to come over to pick up Kai. Part of me wanted to believe Kobi would get better and if I had one pup to take care of it would be easier. The other part of me knew he would be gone soon and it was best if Kevin came. This was my second call that evening letting him know how poorly Kobi was feeling.
I went over to the couch and got comfortable and then I held my angel against my chest as I stuck a hand in the towel to rub his belly. He was quieting down very quickly—so much so that I asked my friend to check and see if he was still alive. He was.
We were watching TV when I heard it. Kobi was making an unusual sound, a gurgle. I recognized it immediately as a death rattle. I told my friend what I thought the sound was. He understood. It was then I heard him clearly saying, “Let me go”. I rubbed his belly and told him “It’s ok, if you want to go, you can go. If you want to get better you can. It’s your choice.”
Moments later the door opened and my ex-husband came in. I looked up and asked him to check for signs that Kobi was still alive. In that moment, we all realized, as a family, he was gone.
I spent the day trying NOT to listen—trying to believe my angel Kobi would get better all the while he was telling me he wanted to go.
He taught me to listen, not for what I wanted to hear but what I was being told.
He was telling me to let him go. So I listened and let him go.
I learned a valuable lesson that day. Listen for what you are being told, not for what you want to hear. Listen and hear what you weren’t willing to hear before.
I offer you this, listen! Who in your life are you not listening to? Are you not listening to your children? Are you not listening to your family? Are you not listening to your neighbors? Are you not listening to the opposing political party? Are you not listening to the other race? Are you not listening to the people who don’t agree with you, the people who aren’t telling you what you want to hear? Listen and learn. Hear them, see them. Get uncomfortable and listen.
Kobi taught me to listen! Listen, because if you don’t, just know, I am listening.