Two months after my father passed away, I went to a rescue shelter that cared only for Shelties. A little dog walked up to me and stood next to me and stared at me for a long time. He wouldn't play catch, he ignored the other dogs. The next day I returned, ready to adopt a different dog. I found out that dog had bitten a little girl. And there was that little dog again, right at my feet, staring up at me. He remembered me. He came home with me that day, nearly seven years ago.
Kenyon was for most of those years my only friend and my only family. He was and is loved so deeply and so profoundly by me that I can't begin to put it into words. He has been a steady source of unconditional love and comfort to me.
I knew for a while he wasn't in the best of health, but he was happy, content, eager to go on walks even if it meant he moved slower. Tonight, he collapsed. I rushed him to the vet's which is where he is now, hooked up to an IV because he is severely dehydrated. The outlook is grim. There's a small chance the fluids will improve his situation, maybe enough so he can come home for a little while longer. Maybe I am writing that to fool myself into thinking it will be ok, delaying the inevitable because it's too difficult to let go. It's painful enough knowing he is alone in a cage, sick and in pain.
I truly do not know how I will go through my day to day without him.