On the ride home, Kalo lay limp across his lap, exhausted by the long scare due to the first two years of her life being spent locked up in a wooden crate, followed by the days spent on display at HHS.
Finally, she felt safe.
At 11 pounds, she was skin and bone. An ideal weight, he was told, would be 14 to 15 pounds, and that is the weight the vet would later confirm to be ideal when Kalo went in for her initial health checkup two weeks after adoption.
After a few nights where Kalo seemed to be standing guard, nervous and sometimes shaking, she finally settled into what would always be sleeping peacefully and deep, secure at last in her surroundings. She would alternate lying in the curve of his chest or the crook of his legs, her chin propped on his calf.
He did a lot of yardwork, and after weeks of watching him from the lānai, Kalo ventured out into the garden, following him closely as he raked or weeded.
“You’ve become quite the supervisor,” he would say to her. “Thank you for being so good in overseeing the quality of my work.”
At the end of the day, he would carry on conversations with Kalo, using a voice he’d created for her, discussing everything from the yard to her favorite foods, to the books he read, and the movies and TV shows they watch together.
Kalo loved everything about her new life except visits to the vet. Besides the annual physical, there was the every six weeks nail trim, along with an ear cleaning if necessary. When she would see the leash coming out of its hiding place, she would begin to tremble.
Never a fan of the animal clinic, she’d shiver and shake on the way there. But after the ordeal ended, when he brought her back to the car and took her home, she would bound around in his lap making driving a challenge.
Kalo had not uncurled herself from her deep sleep when he woke up and got out of bed. This wasn’t the first morning she’d not done so recently, but it had become more frequent. She was elderly now, he realized, but her increasing lack of energy worried him more and more each day.
“Kalo,” he said, petting her gently. “Wake up, little girl.”
Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, but they closed and she simply lay there, still.
Picking her up, he held her to his chest. “Kalo, sweetie, are you okay?”
Again she opened her eyes, then closed them.
He set her down on the floor, praying that she would stand and follow him, but she slid to the floor. This was the weakest he’d seen her.
Checking the clock, he saw that the vet would be open shortly. When he took the leash from the closet, he watched as she opened her eyes. But that was her only reaction. Her usual worry wasn’t there.
With the leash around his neck, he picked Kalo up and took her out to the car. Placing her carefully on the passenger seat, he drove to the clinic. Dreading what might come of this trip, he cried all the way there. Too many times over the years, when he’d taken one of his animals in a similar declining health situation to the vet, he’d returned home alone.
Kalo lay in his lap as they waited for the doctor to have a spare moment in his schedule of appointments. When a break occurred, he carried her into the little room with the cold steel table.
“How long has she been like this?” the doctor asked, listening to Kalo’s heart with his stethoscope.
“Maybe a week or so. It’s gotten progressively worse.”
“Her heart sounds weak,” the doctor said. “Is she eating?”
“No, not much at all. Definitely not her usual amount.”
A technician knocked on the door and brought in several X-rays they’d taken before the doctor came in to check Kalo.
Attaching them to the lightbox, the doctor examined them closely.
“Do you see this, Mr. Lee,” he said, “this is a tumor. It’s pressing against several organs including her heart.”
“Is it something that can be removed?” he asked.
The doctor shook his head. “I’m afraid not. I could try, of course, but her chances of surviving the surgery are not good. I’m afraid we’d lose her anyway.”
“So,” he hesitated, “you’re suggesting I put her to sleep?”
The doctor nodded. “I think it’s time.”
He began crying again, holding Kalo to him. “Aw, my little girl.” He rocked her gently. “My baby.”
Kalo opened her eyes for a moment, licked his cheek, and then closed them again.
“Would you like some time to think about it?” the doctor asked.
He shook his head. “No, no, please let’s do it.”
While he waited for the doctor to return, he stroked Kalo, all the while talking to her. But unlike their conversations at home, he didn’t use his invented voice for her to join in. It was one-sided, just him talking to her.
The doctor came back carrying a tray with two syringes.
“This one,” he said, picking it up, “will put her into a deep sleep. And this one,” he said, pointing to the other, “will have the effect of stopping her heart.”
Placing her on the table, he nodded. He appreciated the doctor explaining the procedure to him, but all he could think about was that he was losing Kalo.
“Okay,” the doctor said, “it’s time to say goodbye to her if you want to.”
He began crying again, kissed Kalo, and whispered a last goodbye to her. Then he sat back.
The doctor eased the first needle in, then pressed slowly on the plunger.
Because Kalo had already been asleep, through his tears he couldn’t tell if she was falling into the deep sleep the doctor had mentioned.
Then, all of a sudden, as the doctor slid the needle out, Kalo opened her eyes and began to struggle. Both he and the doctor put their hands on her to try to control her movement with this burst of energy.
“She’s fighting it,” the doctor said. “She doesn’t want to leave you.”
This made him cry even more, and he kept his hands on Kalo until she finally relaxed. Again he bent his head forward, kissed her, and whispered goodbye.
After the second injection, the doctor listened with his stethoscope to Kalo’s heart. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, Mr. Lee, that’s it. She’s gone now.”
Out at the front desk, exhausted, he waited while the receptionist totaled up his bill. In addition to the euthanasia procedure, he added the cost of cremation and return of the ashes.
He walked to his car in a trance, collapsed in the driver’s seat, and sat for a long time staring through the windshield at nothing. There were no more tears, only a feeling of complete emptiness.
Finally, he started up his car and drove home. Once there, he lay down in bed and fell asleep almost immediately.
When he opened his eyes, he was disoriented. For a moment he wondered if he’d been dreaming about Kalo’s illness and death, but he realized immediately, with the empty space in his bed, that he’d not.
It was dark outside. He’d slept all day and into the night. Sitting up on the side of the bed, he closed his eyes and pictured Kalo.
And then an odd thing happened. He heard what sounded like a quick burst of barking. Was it one of the neighborhood dogs?
He listened and heard it again. It didn’t sound far enough away to be a neighbor dog. It sounded very close.
Standing up and listening intently, he moved out of the bedroom through the kitchen and dining room to the front door.
The burst of barks came again, and now he heard scratching at the door. Swinging it open, he stood stunned.
He knelt and the little dog jumped to him, licking his face excitedly.
“Kalo, oh my little girl. How did you get here?”
“I couldn’t stay away, Daddy, he said, using the voice he’d make up for her. “I missed you too much.”
Kalo jumped into his arms, practically knocking him over.
“Oh, my little love,” he said, holding her tight and rocking her, and marveling at her being there.
Kalo continued her ecstatic licking as he carried her downstairs.
“Would you like a snack?” he said to her, putting her down and reaching for a bag of peanut butter and banana cookies. These were the same cookies he’d used to coax her to him at the Humane Society, and all these years later, they were still her favorite treat.
After she’d wolfed down the cookie, the two walked to the bedroom and Kalo bounded up on the bed to resume licking him. His mood had done a 180-degree turnaround. All the while he knew this had to be impossible, but he was overjoyed that she was back with him.
And then, finally, as they lay down together, Kalo’s energy level fell. He could see it happening as if she were wasting away before him.
He panicked. “Kalo, sweetie, what’s happening?” he asked, even though he knew.
Her eyes were closed and there was no response. Prodding her gently, he whispered her name over and over again.
But she was gone, and he began to cry again.
Lanning Lee 