For our family, Mika's passing today was far beyond losing our darling, sweet girl and I'd like to share our story with all of you, my dear Tripawd community…

When Dave and I decided 10 years ago (just after we had gotten married), that we were ready to move into a new place, we rented a house specifically that would let us get a dog.  We went to a shelter to find a pup, but that plan failed miserably because after walking past rows of dogs that probably were never going to make it out, I burst into tears thinking about their ill-fated futures.  People stared sympathetically, probably assuming that I was looking for my lost pet.  I was a mess.

Next up was Furry Friends Rescue and perusing their online profiles of doggies in foster care and in need of homes.  I wish I still had her profile headshot - head cocked to the side, floppy ears, soft brown eyes and I swear that dog could smile.  It was love at first sight.  She even came with a Japanese name (I'm half Japanese) that I loved, "Mika".  (I would have named my firstborn "Mika" except that would have been confusing.  My mother even jokingly suggested that I change the dog's name to "Elizabeth" after my paternal grandmother, so I could name my daughter "Mika". )  I thought we had found the perfect MEDIUM sized dog to become part of our family.  We went to the dog park to check her out in-person and my husband heard me mutter, "Uh oh…"  Dave asked, "Where's Mika? I don't see her."  As I pointed out this huge beast of a dog (100 pounds), who was busy snurfulling the ground at the back of the park, he reiterated, "All, I see is that REALLY big dog over there."  Yup, that was Mika, but I had decided she was mine, even if she was twice the size of what we expected (she was listed as "hound mix", but was probably Doberman and Rhodesian Ridgeback).  At the following weekend's adoption fair, she demonstrated to Dave in less than 10 minutes that she was clever and easily trainable – so wanting to please us.  And although she had been "returned" to Furry Friends, not once but TWICE for being too unruly, we took our chances and decided to give her a fur-ever home with us.

As a family with no human offspring, life revolved around our first "child" (I know I don't need to tell you all about that phenomena!) and weekends were spent taking her to the beach and dog parks. She was an active, ok, downright HYPER dog that could only be worn out running along side a bike. She was our everything and we had to get a bigger bed because she insisted on sleeping in the middle, although by morning, she was usually cuddled up with Dave, sharing his pillow with her furry head, one leg draped over his chest. (I kid you not!) My sister, Erica, a professional costume designer, transformed her into a camel one year for Halloween, complete with tasseled headpiece and colorful silk bags dangling at her side. Mika posed for her own spoof "doggie style" calendar in lingerie. She was slave to fashion and would run over to put on a new Hawaiian lei or a pair of Mickey Mouse ears, embroidered with her name. She was gorgeous, devoted, spirited, obedient (even putting herself in timeouts in the bathroom for lounging on the sofa), and clever.  We called her loophole dog, because she would do things like put half of her body on the sofa, but keep two legs on the floor, so "technically" she wasn't jumping onto the couch. She was the center of our universe and had no idea that she wasn't an actual person.

I felt terribly guilty when five years after adopting her, we had a two legged baby of our own and Mika dropped a peg on the totem pole. But you know what? I had it all wrong. Mika relished in her job as loyal protector of the pack, and boy, did she take her work seriously. She didn't like people on any of roofs of neighboring houses (suspicious!), delivery people (sneaky!), door-to-door sales people (swarmy!) or anyone who waked in front of the house smoking a cigarette (stinky!).  And we always ALWAYS knew that as long as Mika was in the house, we would never have a break-in and I felt safe at home even when Dave was away on extended business trips.  She took it all in stride when Twinks Elise and Lilli arrive 2.5 years later.  Less attention for her, but also more responsibility and she honestly liked the challenge.  I have never before seen a dog with bags under her eyes, but let me tell you, it can happen and Mika suffered through that sleep-deprived first year along with the rest of us!

I'm not sure how many years ago that Mika's front right leg developed a hot spot, but I think it was more than five.  We'd take her into the vet, they'd say "hmmm", r-xay and we'd bring her home $300 poorer and with a bandage that lasted about 45 seconds.  This cycle went off and on for years.  Little did we know until Feb 2010, when her hotspot blew up like a balloon, that it was actually cancerous. Through the support of our Tripawds community, we made the agonizing decision to amputate and we never EVER looked back.  It bought us 11+ happy, pain-free months.  February 18th would have been her one year ampuversary and, it would also have been my dear mother's birthday had she not passed away rather suddenly just a few short months ago.  I would be remiss not to mention the very special relationship the two of them shared.  My mom used to keep a photo of Mika in her wallets for the times when her friends shared pictures of their grandchildren.  She would always save the last bit of dinner on her own plate for Mika as a treat.  And she would sing Japanese children's songs to her, revising the words to fit Mika's name. Mika would follow my mother everywhere and my mom affectionately called her "kingyo no unko" (goldfish poop), because wherever she went, Mika trailed along.  I remember one instance when Mika gently grabbed my mother's sleeve and began tugging, trying to pull her up a stairscase to a bedroom.  We realized that Mika was didn't want to go to bed alone upstairs and she was trying to get my mom to join her.  They truly doted on each other.

So here we are.  February 7th, 2011.  Her passing at the hand of the vet and in our arms was peaceful and oh-so fast.  Very, very fast. We spent her last full day yesterday lying in the sun in the backyard.  The girls fed her peanut butter from a spoon, whipped cream from the can and ham straight from the package.  Friends and family came to say goodbye.  My five year old made her a "squirrel" from brown construction paper because she left sad that Mika couldn't walk or even stand up anymore and would miss chasing squirrels in our backyard.  She asked, "Who is going to clean up the floor under the dining table?"  She cried, "Who am I going to cuddle at night when I get scared?"  And all my girls were so very upset, each in their own way, that Mika was dying, "just like Baba died".  And Dave and I cried and cried.  We cried for Mika. And we cried for my mother.

The pain of losing a treasured companion like Mika is always heartbreaking; the similarities she shared with my own mother's battle is uncanny. Both were cancer survivors who had undergone serious, major surgeries (my mom had a liver transplant in November 2009) that gave them almost one year leases on life.  Without question, they both loved their families above all else.  Both, I held throughout the night in my arms as they neared their final days on earth – my mother for two weeks in the hospital and Mika for her last two nights.  Both were beautiful and brave, until the bitter end, with strength and grace that is indescribable.  A month prior to my mother's passing (before we knew how much the cancer had spread and that it was terminal), she looked at my smiling, happy 3-legged pup and said, "Mika, you give me courage…"  Mika, you gave us all courage.  

A month prior to my mother's passing (before we knew how much the cancer had spread and that it was terminal), she looked at my smiling, happy 3-legged pup and said, "Mika, you give me courage…"  Mika, you gave us all courage.

Tonight we read a new book to the girls, "Dog Heaven" by Cynthia Rylant.  My favorite passage is, "Dogs in Dog Heaven have almost always belonged to somebody on earth and, of course, the dogs remember this. Heaven is full of memories.  So sometimes an angel will walk a dog back to earth for a little visit and quietly, invisibly, the dog will sniff about his old backyard, will investigate the cat next door, will follow the child to school, will sit on the front porch and wait for the mail.  When he is satisfied that all is well, the dog will return to Heaven with the angel."  My husband had to read these pages, for I could not through my tears.  I take comfort in believing with all my heart that they will visit and I hope to meet them in my dreams.

Until we meet again someday.  (Itsuka, mata aimashou.)

Always in our hearts.

Yours,

Mari, Angel Mika's Mom

It was the perfect day to be your last.  RIP sweet girl.

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