We bought our first house in 2006. A month later, my mom called and said she had found the perfect dog for us. A breeder was selling Golden Retriever puppies, and wouldn't we like to have one for our new yard? You see, my mom knew that if I ever owned a dog, I wanted it to be a Golden Retriever. I think they are a beautiful breed. I had also decided way back in high school that if I ever owned this Golden Retriever, his name would be Aika. You see, I went to Germany in high school on an exchange, and my host family had a sweet Yellow Lab named Aika. I thought it was the perfect name for a dog.
So in 2006, Michael and I drove out to this breeder's house and looked at their puppies. They only had a few left for sale and they were offering them at a discount to hurry the process along. A mere $175 could get us the puppy of my dreams. We wandered around the yard and scanned the energetic puppies. I knew instantly which one I wanted. Though the puppies all essentially looked the same, I knew Aika when I saw him. We took him home and I thought he was the cutest little thing.
He was the cutest little thing; under foot and easily excitable. I loved him. He was supposed to be an outside-only dog. But he looked so lonely outside. We let him hang out inside the house a little, but just in the kitchen, in case he peed. Somehow the boundary kept expanding and soon he was everywhere.
I loved him.
And then he started chewing. And chewing. And chewing.
I loved him no more. When he was nearly 3, I told Michael I'd had enough. The dog had to go. We put an ad in the newspaper. A man called about the dog. Michael suddenly couldn't go through with it and told the man the dog already had a home. Because he did - our home. And I remembered that I really did love him.
For the first 6 years of his life, Aika was our baby. At a time when we didn't know if a human child would ever join our family, Aika received all the love we had stored up for a baby. He went everywhere with us. We threw him birthday parties and dressed him up for Halloween. He was part of our family.
Aika grew up alongside our nieces and nephews. And then he grew old beside our daughter.
When he was 10, I asked the vet how long Aika would live. He told me 12 years would be remarkable.
Aika turned 14 last year. He was nearly deaf and had trouble walking due to arthritis. He was still loving and sweet and wagged his tail excitedly when we would pet him. Michael and I decided that if he ever stopped eating or couldn't walk on his own, that would be our signal to let him go.
On June 12th, Aika couldn't walk anymore. It was a Saturday morning and I felt my heart fill with sadness because I knew the day had arrived. We made arrangements with the vet and spent the morning praying for peace, petting him, and saying our goodbyes.
Michael made him popcorn as his final meal. Aika loved popcorn. But on this day, he didn't eat any. He was ready to go.
I didn't want to be there when he took his last breath. I told Michael he'd have to go inside the vet's office without me and I'd wait outside. But because Aika couldn't walk, the vet came to our car and said he would do it there. I'm incredibly grateful he did. I didn't think I wanted to be there, but it turned out to be a tender moment between us. I told Aika I loved him, thanked him for being a part of our family, and kissed him one last time. His eyes closed and he was gone.
He was one month shy of turning 15-years-old. It's rare and incredible for a Golden Retriever. It's exactly what Aika was.
My grief over his absence is sharper than I anticipated. I still catch myself looking for him around the house and calling for him to eat the scraps from the kitchen. I didn't know it was possible to love an animal the way I love Aika. He has left a mark on my heart and I miss him terribly.
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