It is time to retire this goal.

Kona has been gone for over four months now. I still miss him terribly. I no longer have to manage his seizures, since he is no longer “dodging angels” as he described his seizures. He was a great wonderful dog. He was my boy. Today I am beginning to clean out his things, in preparation for Zora who will be home with us next week. I will make a special treasure box to hold his dearest collars, toys, brush. His ashes are in a cedar box. We are not yet ready to scatter them up on the ridge where he loved to hike. That will take time. I am going to have a special rememberance made for him (and for our previous dog Sonnet) http://www.artfromashes.com/.

It was not fair that such a sweet boy should have to suffer from such a terrible disorder. He, and we, were fortunate that we had the resources to take care of him. No doubt with another family he may have been euthanized because the cost and effort of managing his disease was too overwhelming. He was supposed to be with us. He had a great life and he always showed how happy he was. We will give our new dog a great life too. But she doesn’t replace Kona, no one could. He was his own special dog, just as Zora will be her own special dog.

I know Kona will come back to visit, to mentor Zora, to let us know he is still around. It is sad in many ways to have to let go of him all over again in order to make room for Zora. But it is as it should be. Kona does not want us to be unhappy. He wants us to have a healthy dog and a happy life. He knows that we know that he is still around us.

Good bye my friend. You are free of the limitations of your sick body but your spirit soars with the love and your sweet energy. We are only separated by the thin veil between the worlds that separate us. But we are not separate, you are not alone and we will always be together in spirit. You will come back to us in the physical form one day, when you are ready. And you will guide us to you. Rest well my boy, for there is still a lot of playing and running and jumping and hugging to be done. You live deeply entrenched in my heart, just like that first day you come home and realized that you were, indeed, home.

See more progress on: Do a better job of managing Kona's seizures