An Unexpected Beginning: Tonka

Rough month all around. As many of you know, our boxer, Tonka, passed away suddenly the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. It has been harder than I thought. If you aren't an animal person, go ahead and stop reading.

As most know, I had Rosco, Costco, and Bosco before Matt and I met. They are all rescues, and they have gotten me through some rough times. So much that when Matt and I met, I made it very clear that if he didn't accept my dogs, we would never work out. Some days, I think he may like them more :) Then we ended up with Tonka...he is the product of Matt's parents' and sister's boxers. He was always big in size and even bigger in love. He just wanted to be with his "brothers" and his people.

In the couple of weeks prior, Tonka slowed down. Typically, the puppies stay in the family room until Matt gets home, and they all sleep in our room (I know, us, Kaycie, and 4 big dogs is a full bedroom, especially if you have seen our bedroom, but we wouldn't have it any other way). He started not wanting to get off the couch to come to bed. The first thing he did EVERY morning was jump on Rosco...he stopped. He still jumped for treats and ate some. We were just talking about taking him to the vet for a checkup the day he died. Matt was going to take him the next day because he was off work.

I came home from my parents that night to 3 silent pups...they usually greeted me with lots of noise, but there 3 of them sat. It smelled. I walked in to put Kaycie down so I could get LJ. Tonka was by the door. I knew he wasn't just sleeping. That night changed me. I am sick about it. I have had the priveledge of never experiencing death before until now.

If we had only done something that day instead of wait until the next. If we had only given him one last hug or one last cuddle. I walked out the door that day. He was sitting on the couch. I knew he was in a funk...we thought maybe he was depressed because of the new baby. I hugged him and told him he was okay, gave him a kiss, and walked out the door without another thought. We kept saying he was looking at us like he was trying to tell us something...he was trying to tell us he was just about done. It was likely cancer based on what we have learned, but we will never know. He was only 3.5. He was larger than life...all 110 lbs of him. It sucks. It just sucks.