It's Time, Koko!

Just Another Tribute to a Good Dog  

My husband was the first to use that phrase.  

“It’s time” was the dogs’ cue to hop into their kennels when we were leaving the home.  

There wasn’t much resistance...

until Koko became a part of the pack. 

“It’s time” was her cue to run the other way.  

Her will was so strong, and her zest for any kind of activity outside of that kennel drove her to defy us at every turn.

“It’s time, Koko!” 

That phrase was heard so many times over the years that it became a personal charge to change a behavior. 

Time to workout?  It’s time, Koko.

Time to change jobs? It’s time, Koko.

Time to make a change in your life?  It’s time, Koko.

There’s no better way I can think of than to use that much loved phrase to honor a dog that brought so much love, frustration, joy and sorrow into our lives. 

So here we go:

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It’s time, Koko. 

Time to leave your mom and come home with me.  

I don’t know if the farmer was serious when he said that he would have drowned you and the rest of the litter if it wasn’t for his granddaughter, but I’m glad he didn’t.  

Let’s go home.  Trust me.  You’ll love it there.

It’s time, Koko.

Time to meet your pack mate.  

Get to know him well.  

You’ll spend the next 15 years with him. 

Time to meet the boy that would grow up with you.  Come on, let’s play!

Time to meet the man you would adore for the next 19 years and follow around the yard while he worked, always within sight of him.  

FYI: He loved you too.

Good Girl

It’s time, Koko.  

Time to wait patiently while you’re being fed.

 

It’s time, Koko.  Time to learn the boundaries of the invisible fence.  

Koko with her invisible fence collar on.

And it went like this:

Evan: Mom, I think Koko understands the fence’s boundaries.

Me: Evan, that’s impossible.  You’ve trained her once.  The VCR tape (latest technology I should add) said it takes at least 2 weeks.

Evan: Mom, she’s ready.

She was ready, and never crossed the boundary.  Ever.

It’s time Koko!  Time to learn that dogs do not

*eat fudge

*devour cake cooling on the counters

*steal sandwiches from children’s hands

*open cabinets to get into the trash

*jump on the furniture after a romp in the creek

*decide our running route.  No we are NOT going down that street.  Ok, fine.  Let’s go.

It’s time, Koko.  

Time to get out of the strawberry patch.  

No, you cannot kill the baby rabbits you found.  

Sorry.  My house. My rules. 

It’s time Koko.  

Time to welcome all of the foster dogs who come and go.  

You always looked forward to the next playmate 

and was a little depressed when they would leave. 

It’s time, Koko.  

Time to stop running.  

The 6 mile runs took its tolls on our knees, so let’s just walk from now on.

It’s time, Koko.  

Time to try out the harness.  

Your legs won’t work, but we’ll help you get around.  

We owe you that for all the love you have given us over the years.

Look at your packmates care for you as they sense something in their alpha pack leader is changing.

It’s time, Koko.

It’s not just the legs any more.  

It’s the seizures, the vomiting, the pain. 

I see it in your eyes.

It’s time, Koko.  Can you trust me?  

Just like when I told you to trust me 19 years ago, and I loaded you in the car for an adventure of a lifetime.  

And what a lifetime it was.

So, let’s say good-bye in a good way.

To the boy who grew up with you, 

and the family who loved you.

Just look at me, and trust me.  I’ll be the last thing you see, so you’ll see only love and gratitude for all that we shared over the years.

I can’t tell you exactly where you are going, but trust me, Koko.  

It’s something beautiful 

and all beings have a place there.

It’s OK, Koko.  It’s OK.  I love you.  It’s time…………………………

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It’s time, Karla.

Time to deflate the air mattresses that offered a place of comfort to a very old dog.

Time to toss the food.  You knew when you made it that morning it wouldn’t be eaten, but you weren’t ready to accept what was coming.

Time to donate the meds, wash the linens, and store the harness in case it’s needed in the future.

Time to figure out what you’ll do with the extra time in your day that was used caring for this dog.

Oh yes.  

There are those 4 remaining dogs who need your attention.  Go walk them.

Maybe I’ll return to a much loved craft/therapy, and perhaps finish these crocheted pinecones promised to a daughter a year ago.

Dog inserted herself into picture voluntarily

Maybe I’ll read from the stockpile (or hoard if you must label me) of books that I have (the dog inserted herself into the picture).

And I know I'll spend more time here.

Where now there is another collar to remind me to be grateful of all that has been a part of my life, expressing gratitude for what was.

And, then 

there’s this

And this

And this

And This

Yes, I know.

Life waits for me to return to fully embrace all of my blessings, and oh...there are so many.

But for today, 

my husband and I will cry and hold each other for the dog that was a part of our lives for 19 years, and say thank you, Koko. 

You taught us to embrace life, and to never miss an opportunity to live it fully. 

We’ll live that way every day.

It’s time.