Story of Kobe SP, best dog ever

OUR SMALL family of four in GenSan remembers exactly when she first came into our lives. Early in 2007, Dra. Magan sold us our new dog for P2,000, a mongrel part-Jack Russel terrier, part poodle. The venerable veterinarian said the 3-month old pup was part of a litter and the original owners had decided to dispose of her. “Not cute enough, that’s why.” That was my immediate, and now-classic impression the first time I laid eyes on our new dog, shortly to be named Kobe. Indeed she was far from pretty, looked so sad, miserable even, when my son Elijah and I came to pick her up at the vet clinic to take her to our home, and now, hers as well.

I had already prepared dog food for her homecoming but she would not even look at it. When I checked back half an hour later, dog food was gone. Hey, I said to myself, this dog has already adjusted to her new owners.

Indeed our family quickly got along with Kobe, who like a terrier is supposed to be, was a bundle of energy. Kobe was small and quick, and could soar through the air just like, no, not like her namesake but more like Jordan. Yes, that Jordan. Each time she stepped out of the house, she scampered, scooted and sniffed for imaginary enemies here and there while I try to catch up. She was feisty, regularly challenging bigger dogs in the neighborhood, through the gate.

What she loved best was a good ol’ belly rub which she always got because she was such a persuasive little creature.

Kobe and I shared a common dislike for cats, with due apologies to cat lovers, and I truly believe she likes to think it’s her divine duty to shoo away stray and itinerant cats within a hundred meters from our home. Like a hero. Even in the middle of the night or early dawn, Kobe and I take it upon ourselves to disperse noisy horny cats that have managed to breach the perimeter.

Early on I said our family remembers exactly when Kobe entered our lives. What we can’t tell exactly is WHEN she entered our hearts. I mean that part when we started to accept her as more than just a dog or a pet but an actual member of the family, where she also matters, just like the humans of the household, especially when we schedule our trips and plan our meals (she eats both dog and human food).

It was always a treat to come home to an excited and barking dog but in 2010 when she was 3 years old a crisis of no small proportion struck. I carelessly managed to move the car over her as she sniffed the front tire, seriously injuring her right ear, and requiring surgery and multiple visits to Dra. Magan over the next few months. Kobe was mostly cool and collected through it all, enduring countless stitches and injections without violent objections. Like a hero.

In 2012 five-year old Kobe gave birth to a litter of 3 pups. One did not survive, one was given to a neighbor who provided the stud, and the one remaining eventually came to be called Butchik, because she was the butsukoy among the litter. (Butchik’s story is another tale waiting to be told for another time and place.)

Tragedy struck late August of 2019 when seven-year old Butchik died after a brief but deadly bout against ehrlichia, a disease caused by tics. Soon after Kobe was also diagnosed not just of ehrlichia but a multitude of serious diseases, including heartworm and potentially (later confirmed) pyometra, an infection in the uterus. Confinement in another vet clinic (Dra. Magan had already retired), a second opinion by yet another vet, various medicines that had to be force-fed along with her food, stuck with an IV needle in the house followed next even as Kobe bravely battled on, yes, just like a hero. A subsequent ultrasound check-up confirmed our fears, Kobe’s major organs were failing, including her heart, liver and kidney.

It was late November. It was just a matter of time, Kobe was not going to get better.

Here I have to acknowledge the great effort and sacrifice of my wife who quickly assumed the crucial role of Kobe’s nurse and caregiver. It’s not easy force-feeding meds, food and supplements to a dog twice a day but Cecile did it lovingly for Kobe. Our family was determined to make the most of each day of our dear Kobe’s remaining life. She still loved that belly rub and got it each time but now we have to do it very gently for fear of hurting her now-fragile body.

By early December I had already Googled the ethics of putting a dog to sleep as Kobe was mostly throwing up her food and meds. But she got through that critical phase, and we held hope that somehow Kobe would still make it.

It wasn’t meant to be. She made it through Christmas Eve but it was now clear that our hero was barely making it through. It was brutal watching her go through the agony. It was time to make the decision, which came on the eve of December 30. The following day, on the last of 2019, Elijah and I (yes, we two also brought Kobe home the first time way back in 2007) went to the vet for Kobe’s final journey. The vet’s clinic was full-packed of pets and owners due to the holidays and we were probably sixth or seventh in line. I had Kobe cradled in my arms, my son beside us as we waited our turn. Her breathing was rhythmic and relaxed, as she looked idly at over the other dogs. Fifteen minutes after we arrived, as we waited our turn, as she lay cradled in my arms, Kobe’s stomach quivered for an instant, she yawned thereafter and just like that, she breathed her last, beside my son, as she lay cradled, fittingly, in her master’s arms. I like to think it was a peaceful death, if there is such a thing.

We were shortly ushered in, over the other pet owners who came in before us, and the vet, whom I had hours earlier arranged to put her to sleep simply said, “Di na siya umabot, ayaw niya magpa-euthanize ‘no?” Then he wrote DOA on Kobe’s medical record. Kobe was gone. She was three months short of thirteen years. The family is not having any dogs for the near future because as much joy as it is to have one it can also be traumatic when you get too much attached and they have to go before us. Still we revel in the memory of our dear Kobe (and Butchik whose tale waits to be told) who was a big and happy part of our lives in GenSan.