The one best place to bury a good dog is in the heart of his master. ~ Ben Hur Lampman

Kishka Bob

Kishka enjoys the fading sun

Adopted:  December 2, 2002

Died:  March 11, 2010

To say that I’m not prepared to write this post is the understatement of the century.   Oh, Kishka.   My sweet girl.  Kishy.   How on earth do I say goodbye to you?

Your story, like all of my pet stories, began at the Humane Society.  It was December 2002 and my ex-husband and I were looking for a third dog to round out our furry family.   I wanted to make it a German Shepherd trio so I was focused on adopting a Shepherd.  I found one, but my ex was insistent on meeting you.   He thought you were cool looking and eventually he talked me into meeting you before we met the Shepherd.  I’m eternally grateful for that.

You came into the meeting room and promptly flipped over for a belly rub.  In that instant, I fell in love.

When my marriage ended the three of you stayed with me.   I fought for you guys and it was more than worth it.

I can’t talk about you without talking about them.  I called you guys The Three Stooges and the three of you were inseparable.

Walking the fenceline

When Max and Sam would wrestle, you would stand on the sidelines wooing.  (I liked to think that you were calling commentary on the wrestling match.)

You were the low dog on the totem pole when they were alive and when Samantha died it was interesting to watch you take on the role of top dog.  It didn’t take long.  You loved to boss Sadie around.     She rarely made a move without consulting you first.

As much as you loved to boss her around, you and Sadie were the best of friends.  One of my great joys was watching you guys together.

The two of you loved exploring together…


…walking together…

Leading the way

…getting into mischief together…

Getting a closer look at the bird's nest

…and just hanging out together.

132/365:   Chillin'

You were always such an agile and active dog.   In your younger years you never walked around the couch.  You jumped over it.

You were a fast runner.

Kish running

You used to catch rabbits.  There was a period of time when I would have to do a mouth check before you came in the house.  (This was due to you bringing a dead rabbit in the house and hiding it in the couch cushions.)

You loved to dig.   Often on our walks, we would pause for several minutes at a time while you went after something.

8/365:  Digging.

Sometimes you caught a field mouse while digging.   I pretended to be grossed out but I was proud of you:  my great hunter.

You liked to chase your tail.   Often we’d be walking along and you’d start running in circles trying to catch that darn tail.  When you did catch it, you’d yelp and usually end up with a clump of fur in your mouth.

You loved to play fetch.   If I was willing, you could spend an entire afternoon chasing a ball.


The only time you ever laid on your back was after a game of fetch.    You loved to lie on your back in the sun with a tennis ball in your mouth.


When we started going to the dog park you discovered a new love:  squirrel hunting. Your attention span with squirrels was amazing.   You would sit perfectly still and wait for one to come down from a tree.

Kishka watches squirrel

You never caught one, but that didn’t stop you from trying again and again.

Kishka squirrel hunting

You didn’t eat like most dogs.   You dined.   You stretched out with the food bowl between your front legs and slowly, carefully ate your food.   It would sometimes take you 30 minutes to eat a meal.

I loved your ears.   Yes, that’s weird, but I loved how one tipped over and one stood straight up. Your ears were also very, very soft.

Kishka Bob

I also loved the touch of white on the tip of your tail.

Kishka tail

You were a sweet and gentle soul.

You were never an overly snuggly dog, but you were affectionate.  Sometimes when we were driving down the road you would sit behind me and put your head on my shoulder.

Most days when I arrived home from work you were waiting for me.

Waiting for me

When I was sick you tried to comfort me.

Kishka on me

I think my favorite thing about you was your wooing.   I loved it.  You wooed all the time and it made me laugh every single time.

Kishka woos

I’m not sure how I’m going to live in a world without wooing.

Most of all, I’m not sure how I’m going to live in a world without you.


30 responses

  1. No no no no no! Kishka, I feel like I knew you. I’d tell Mingus about his soulmate in CO. My deepest sympathies, runswithneedles.

  2. I am so very sorry.

  3. I’m sobbing and heartbroken. I don’t know what else to say. Sending hugz and fuzzy ear rubs from my pack to yours

  4. Oh my – tears are rolling over here – Im gonna miss seeing her pics – hugs to you.

  5. So sorry about Kishka.She reminds me so much of Summer, our family dog we just had put down last week, she was 14. Kishka most definitely fell on her feet when she came to live with you, a wonderful doggy life. *hugs*

  6. What? How? OMG Kathy! I’m so sorry!!! Dear Kishka, I’ve always loved to hear about you, and look at photos of you. I’ll miss you!

  7. I’m so sorry for your loss. What a sweetie – she will be missed.

  8. I’m so…so sorry for your loss of a furry friend and family member. I will keep you and your family in my prayers. *hugs*

    I know it’s silly to say this about a dog I never met…but I will really miss Kishka. Your pictures with her would always make me smile.

  9. I’m new to the blog… I found it because of the knitting, but I read it because of the dogs 🙂 My condolences.

  10. Dylan and Katie | Reply

    We are so very sorry about Kishka, Kathy. Hugs and bunny nuzzles to you.

  11. I’ve silently read your blog for years and have enjoyed your posts because of your dogs. I cried when you lost your Shepherd a couple of years ago and rejoiced when your Sadie found her way to you. Through it all, Kishka has always held my attention with her beauty and quiet stoicism so well portrayed in your photographs. When I saw your post this morning the tears instantly fell when I read the caption. I am so very sorry for your loss.

  12. OMG, what happened??? I’m so shocked, and so sorry that you’re going through this.

    What a horrible loss. 😦 My heart goes out to you all.

  13. What a shock, how awful for you. I’m so very sorry.

  14. My heart is breaking for you. What a beautiful tribute you have written for this close companion on your journey. She will live forever in your heart because of the love you shared.

  15. I’m so sorry for your loss.

  16. Oh, Kahty, my heart is so heavy for you. 😦 I don’t think those who aren’t dog people really understand the depth of the bond between one who is, and their four legged babies. Kishka was a beautiful dog, with a beautiful soul. She will always remain part of you, having helped shape you into who you are these past eight years.

  17. Linda in Waterloo | Reply

    My very sincere sympathies to you and Sadie. I know how dark this time is, as do you. I wish there was a way to ease the passage but it will nevertheless be that heavy, heartbreaking sense of loss and grief as you struggle on. If it was cancer and it snuck upon you, don’t blame yourself. It has happened to us and to our rescued friends. I loved to read your blog posts and so enjoyed seeing your happy dogs, and it would appear people from all over the globe did too. I will miss Kishka terribly so can only begin to imagine your own pain. She was a loved and lucky gal.
    I admired her special ears too – she was so comical and your posts gave us all a sense of the wonderful companionship dogs bestow upon us. My belief is that we will reunite with all good friends, in spirit, when we ourselves move on. Love to you and Sadie.

  18. I’m so sorry to hear about Kishka! I loved reading about her adventures with Sadie. What a sweet dog. She will be missed.

  19. I am so sorry for the loss of your beautiful and faithful companion.

  20. So sorry to hear about Kishka – I’ve enjoyed reading about her and Sadie.

  21. I am so very very sorry. She, Max and Sam are no doubt having a fabulous reunion.

    “Good dogs have their reward”.

  22. Sending you big hugs and hope that soon the pain will lessen.
    Take care,

  23. Oh, Kathy.
    I’m so so sorry. I’m crying here, not entirely sure what to say. NO FAIR! I know how you’re feeling, I know it too well, and while yes it does lesson some, it just is so rotten right now.
    Know that you and Sadie are in my thoughts and prayers. What a sweetheart Kishka was – your photos showed us that over and over again.
    Sending you more ((((((((((hugs)))))))))) than you might have thought possible

  24. Oh, darlin’ – I am so, so sorry for your loss. *hug*

  25. I’m so sorry about Kishka, Kathy. It seems very sudden, too. How terrible.

  26. So sad for you Kathy. Poor Kishka. She was loved, that’s for sure! I will miss seeing pics of her – such a sweetie. Hugs to you and Sadie.

  27. I agree with Brie, it seems so sudden! I am sorry for your loss, I love my pets and they truly make a house a home.


  28. I am so sorry for your loss. My heart weighs heavy. 😦

  29. I’ve gotten behind on blogs in the last month and am heartsick for you. I’m so sorry, Kishka was a beautiful dog.

  30. That was such an INCREDIBLE memorial. Kishka must be SO proud. So many pets “evaporate” without a second thought. What you have done here, is so loving, so heartfelt, and so lasting. How wonderful! I should feel sad, but I’m not. I’m happy for her wonderful life, and for the amazing people who love her, still.

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