My beloved Keno would have been 13 years old today.
He came into my life in June of 1999, just a few weeks after the unexpected death of my first greyhound, Newdawn Frost. Keno, then 5, was a stray picked up in Gaston Co. and turned over to the Charlotte area GFNC satellite. I first saw him about an hour after he'd received a much needed bath to remove literally hundreds of fleas and ticks. He was pretty thin and he had a tooth that looked to have been knocked loose by a blow of some sort. Although tired and neglected, he had these beautiful eyes that said, "We need each other. Take me home." He was right. And I did.
His love and affection were a healing balm not only to my heart, but also for my weimaraner, Hannah, who was grieving the loss of her greyhound friend, Frosty.
There were challenges early on: he wasn't housebroken, he had separation anxiety and completely freaked out when crated, he had heartworms, and chronic pancreatitis. The heartworm treatment was hard on him and the 6 week recovery period rough. But nothing a little time, patience, and TLC couldn't fix...
He left us on January 1. After a month I'm getting used to him not being here. I've all but stopped calling him and/or expecting him to walk in the room. Today is his birthday and I'm remembering and missing anew. I remember and miss: his beautiful brindled face and big, dark eyes, his sweet kisses, the way he cocked his head from side to side when he listening, the way he eased into my bed at night and snuggled against me, and his bouncing happy-dance when he thought we were going for a walk or a ride.
No, that's not all. I miss him under foot in my little house, especially the way he would run in front of me and stop suddenly. I miss mopping up the mess he made when he would help himself to the coffee I always seemed to leave unattended "just for a second". I miss those mad 10 second frenzies of play with a stuffy or whatever else might be handy, like one of my shoes. I miss his eternal optimism each time I opened the back door, for this could well be the day he caught one of those @#$% squirrels! I miss his ever lengthening body stretching across the bed and leaving me clinging to the edge of the mattress for dear life.
I remember in his younger days he delighted in outings and would joyfully announce his presence to the world by marking anything that didn't move (and some things that did) -- displays, tents, purses, people's dogs, people's legs! This earned him the nickname "Mr. Peebody" at events and was one reason I never considered getting him certified as a therapy dog.
Not that he needed a certificate to do work his therapeutic magic.
There's a lot to remember and and a lot to miss. So how about if I just say happy birthday and thank you. My life is richer and my memories sweeter for having loved and been loved by you. I'll see ya later.
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