Yoshi

by Lucy S.

Our dog Yoshi died yesterday. He would have been 15 years old had he just made it a little longer.  I think a lof of "at leasts."  At least he lived a good, long life for a dog with almost no health problems. At least he didn't suffer for too long. At least he died with all of us round him except Kevin, who came later in the day after we told him. Matt was headed out the door with Sean and Ryan to take them to the nature center where they volunteer on Mondays. Justin was holding Yoshi then, and when he stopped breathing, he ran out to get them before they left. Then I ran into him in the hallway as I was heading out to the kitchen to sit out there with Yoshi and anyone else before I had to leave to teach. He got Jonathan, too. But Yoshi started breathing again. At least he made some come backs, though maybe it prolonged his suffering. At least Jonathan held him and I used a dropper to put drops of water on his tongue because I was afraid he was dehydrated.

At least it warmed up the day before he died and he got to be outside for a while. Jonathan, Kevin's twin brother, held him all night so that he was more upright and didn't have to wheeze and cough all night. He even took Yoshi outside for part of the night. It's been such a miserably long cold winter. I kept hoping Yoshi could make it to the warm days again. We all hoped for that. At least it was in the 50s for his last days alive. At least the ground wasn't frozen when it came time to bury him, so we could bury him in his own back yard. The kids dug over three feet down, so that no animal would try to dig him up. He was in a box with his sheet, and Jonathan taped up the box. We went out there and each threw in a handful of our sandy dirt over the box. After the hole was filled, the kids rolled a big gnarled piece from a fallen tree over on top of the spot.

It was hard to see him give up his old pleasures in recent years. He used to love to climb up from the couch to the bumped out wood covered area of the bay window behind it and just sit there looking out, especially when the windows were open in warmer weather and the breezes blew his fur back. But there came a time when he didn't go back there anymore. And there came a later time when we even had to lift him up onto the couches, and lift him down.

He slept in my room sometimes. Or in Jonathan's, or on the couch in the kitchen area where Kevin sleeps now when he visits. Sometimes other places.

I can't help associating him with so much. He is the dog of my kids' childhood. The day that I went to go pick him up in June, 1999, Justin had just turned 15; Jonathan and Kevin were almost 11; Sean was 7; and Ryan was 2.  My niece Rose and nephew Ricky were staying with us, too. I let them all hash out what to name him. Since he was a Shih Tzu - and we thought they came from Japan originally (I have just now read that it's China - a surprise - and where did we get Japan?) - the kids named him after (yes) a Nintendo character with a Japanese name.

Yoshi's name means "good luck" or "righteous" or "good."

It's hard to see the life go out of a living being, especially one you've lived with and cared for and loved for fifteen years. There is something shocking about it. What is this force called life, and how can it be there inside of someone and then be gone?

That's all I have for now.