On December 8th, a month to the day after turning 52, I lost my Kiwi dog. She had battled cancer for many years and she finally got beat. Joe has gotten her for me in 2012, as my birthday/Christmas gift. I was working at a beauty school as a receptionist. We'd just moved to Colorado from Arizona. The pay wasn't great but it was a job. We were still waiting for Joe's social security, at this point. Anyway, the other receptionist said that she knew of someone nearby that had puppies for sale. I went to go see them. They were tiny and fuzzy. They were Australian Shepherd and Blue Heeler. About 6 weeks old. We had a 1 1/2 year old boxer, Flynn. I had gotten him for myself, but he was in love with the boys. I wanted a dog, and the thing about Joe and my relationship is that we loved to "spoil" each other when we could. I went home and we talked about getting a puppy. Joe agreed to go see the puppies. As was usually the case, we didn't have much money. My mind was made up before we went to go see the puppies. I sat on the floor surrounded by puppies. I was talking to them and playing with them. Suddenly Kiwi crawled into my lap and bit my nose. She chose me. The owners asked if I was sure that I wanted that one. She was the feisty one. Joe chuckled and said something like, sounds like someone else I know. And he looked at me that way he did when he knew that I was going to get my way. So Kiwi joined the family. She was the color of a kiwi fruit and her eyes were the inside color of a kiwi. She was smart and her self-appointed job was our protection. She loved Flynn and Joe and our son, but I was hers. She tortured Flynn. She'd bite his face and always wanted to play. She quickly asserted herself as the boss. Flynn didn't care as long as he got fed and walked and pet. She loved running and would run circles around Flynn. Boxers aren't known for being particularly fast. They loved each other in their own way and we loved them. She could open any door, and would often open the door to the garbage so that Flynn could eat trash. After losing Joe, she became more protective of me. I couldn't take her anywhere. I was afraid that she would hurt someone. Fortunately, I suppose, it wasn't too long that I moved off grid. Kiwi loved it out here. She wandered around the presert. She knew how to chase cows instinctively, but never was interested in hurting them. She just didn't want them within 2 miles of the house. She was home if I was home. Then she would take off and be back by dinner. She was my best friend and protector. She was an excellent judge of character, except if I liked someone in a romantic way. Then she would like them until she realized perhaps that I was incorrect about them. She is the reason I got out of my first relationship after Joe died. It's almost like she told me that I was going to be severely damaged. He threatened to hurt her and wanted me to get rid of her. I'd already rehomed Flynn, for his own protection. I just wouldn't give up my Kiwi dog, especially not for someone who was so unworthy. She loved going in the truck. She loved being wherever I was. She'd follow me around the property as I'd water or whatever. She didn't need a leash out here, because she would usually stay pretty close to the house and didn't bother the neighbors when she was out gallivanting. Kiwi loved to go on walks. She would jaunt out in front of me and then turn around and jaunt back. Lather, rinse, repeat. She didn't have a tail when I got her. Due to her being a cattle dog, they cut off their tail when they are little, to reduce the spread of diseases. She walked with almost a fast waddle and with no tail, it was quite a sight. She always smiled. Even though her cancer and arthritis were probably painful she never showed it. I could see at the end that she was going to have to leave. She fought the good fight. I'm so grateful for her commitment and loyalty and love. She will be missed very much. I hope this year fills you all with joy, Ceeeej
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