We'll always have Lake Powell...

Not exactly sure how to start this blog.  I usually go for a cheap laugh or a catchy "hook" beginning but words fail me so I'll just start.  Today I had my 14 year old Labrador, Kahlua, euthanized.  She'd been getting more and more feeble recently and this morning after I had to carry her up the stairs to let her out I looked into her eyes and she told me it was time.  Truth be told, it was probably time some months ago but I've been selfishly putting it off.  Sorry old girl..

In an effort to avoid becoming too maudlin and depressed I've been thinking about some of the good adventures she and I had over the years and thought it might be cathartic to share them.  I hope you'll indulge me for a few minutes.

The image above is from a trip she and I made to Lake Powell in 2003.  I had a few extra vacation days and decided to spend a 4 day weekend tent camping so I loaded up the boat, tossed Kahlua in the truck and off we went.  I'll never forget that trip for several reasons but mostly because of Kahlua.  The first evening on the lake I'd found a marvelous little beach and made camp when huge houseboat full of partying 30 somethings decided they needed my camp spot more than I did.  After the usual verbal sparring during which they told me they wanted my camp spot and I politely declined to give it to them, followed by their threat to kick my butt and take it, I had Kahlua do one of her favorite tricks.  She was the most gentle lovable dog around but upon being given the command "Mean Dog" she would growl and bare her teeth.  I knew she was bluffing and it was just a trick she'd learned but the guys on the houseboat thought she was serious and none of them wanted to get chewed up so they left.  I still chuckle about it sometimes. 

In her younger days Kahlua was an amazing retriever.  Maybe too good....one summer she got really disgusted with me while fishing on my In-Laws' ranch in South Dakota.  Every time I fish there I practice catch and release unless I've been requested to supply the makings for a fish fry.  On this one particular trip Kahlua was with me and every time I released a fish she would dive in the creek and try to retrieve it.  After about a dozen tries she looked at me with a puzzled expression that said "What the bleep are you doing?  I can't fetch those things!"  And on the Lake Powell trip I eventually had to stop fishing.  Seems every time I cast a lure she would jump in and try to retrieve it.  I didn't have a doggie boarding platform for the boat so after the first 4 or 5 times of dragging her soggy butt up over the side of the boat I figured my back needed a rest.  Besides, I had visions of her actually grabbing one of the lures...the thought of a Labrador getting punctured by a bunch of treble hooks was not a pleasant one. 

She was quite the retriever though.  Once when my niece, Cathy, and her family were visiting, her son Jared spent all afternoon tossing a ball in the park and Kahlua nearly ran herself ragged fetching it.  We almost placed bets on who would tire out first.  Later, at the dinner table, Jared asked his mom "..when we get home can we get a REAL dog like Kahlua?"  I guess he wasn't so enthralled with their herd of dachsunds after playing ball with my dog.

We had some good times, me and her.  But one thing stands out above all others.  I had borrowed some display tables from my employer to have a garage sale and on Sunday afternoon I loaded them in the truck to return them and took Kahlua with me.  The business was in a less than savory part of town and I almost always saw some homeless guys in the alley or down the block but I didn't want to have the tables sit outside in my truck all night so away we went.  At the studio I backed my truck halfway into one of the rental studios and was in the process of unloading tables while Kahlua explored the new place.  I was finishing the unloading process and walked back into the studio.  I was facing away from the door and Kahlua was in front of me facing towards the door.  All of a sudden she got all puffed up...her hair was standing up and she started growling deep in her chest.  Not the playful growls she made when we played tug of war but a real mean menacing growl.  I turned around to see what she was looking at and saw one of the homeless guys standing about 10 feet away from me with a piece of pipe in his hand.  He looked at me, looked at the dog, then dropped the pipe and beat feet down the alley. 

But now she's gone..and if there's a doggie Heaven she's earned it.  Her legs will work again and she will be able to hear again.  Her eyes will be clear and bright and barking will be fun, not painful. The rabbits and pheasants will be slow and stupid. Best of all, there won't be any cats or if there are, I won't be there to stop her from chasing them.  Enjoy your rest, dear friend.  You will be missed.