Kona’s Memorial

We said goodbye to our little girl, Kona, on June 2^nd. She was diagnosed with two aggressive cancers last November, and despite both tumors responding well to treatment and a great prognosis at her last infusion, she had complications and declined in the days that followed. We let her go in our backyard in the warmth of one of her favorite sunbathing spots after a snack of bacon and ice cream. We feel like she passed just before poor health could’ve turned into poor spirits. She was just 24 days shy of her 13^th birthday.

Kona was born in Enumclaw, Washington as an “oops” litter between two hunting dogs. Brendan found her listed in The Stranger. She was the last little girl left of the bunch. From the beginning, she was a master manipulator. She’d lock eyes with strangers and do the right dance of tail wags and tippy tappies that beckon them over to share pets, fries, or pizza crust. She was a hearty puppy that somehow avoided trips to the emergency vet despite snacking on kitchen shears, power cords, and an entire pair of women’s underwear. Once she was old enough, she became Brendan’s running companion, doing regular laps around Green Lake to help manage her boundless energy. She was a fast girl who loved coaxing dogs at the dog park into a game of chase that they would typically lose.

Kona was pivotal to our love story. First, as the only extrovert in the room, and then more seriously as a testament to the way Brendan wholeheartedly cares and nurtures the things he loves.

We were lucky that Kona loved an outdoor adventure just as much as we did. She loved a game of fetch in an alpine lake in the summer, snow zoomies in winter, and “trail treats” (usually animal poop) all year round. She pillaged the firewood supply and gnawed the logs down to splinters. On nights out camping, she’d always try to hijack our sleeping bags as we settled in for bed. For most of her life, she spent long car trips standing up, head perched on the driver’s shoulder, buzzing with excitement about an adventure to come. She chased us mountain bikes, downhill skis, and Nordic gear. In her prime, she loved long trail runs with Brendan, sometimes out for 20 miles or more. She bagged 5 Bulgers, including a 12-mile jaunt up Windy Peak last larch season at age 12.5.

At home, she was usually in earshot of the kitchen, ready to dispose of any discarded “pepper butts,” or shared baby carrots and pieces of cheese. She loved baking in the sun, baking by the gas logs, and hanging out in my (usually baking) office while I worked from home. She was a menace when it came to washing bikes and watering flowers, chomping at the water spraying from the hose. She loved to steal our socks as we got dressed in the morning and insisted on carrying our packages and mail, especially if they were too big or heavy for her. She always broke down our packaging by tearing cardboard and bubble wrap to pieces – a trait that also came out for birthdays and Christmases, tearing into wrapping paper.

Left alone, she was conniving. Brendan learned how to make his signature pumpkin cookies replacing a batch sent to his roommate but intercepted by Kona. We think they were her favorite food after confiscating later batches off high countertops and in sealed Tupperware. She once stole a quiche from the top cubbies in our camper, a full 6 feet from the floor. She finagled several loaves of bread and many extra servings of her own kibble. But like a true good girl, she’d show extreme guilt as she waddled around with a hard, distended tummy.

Around town, she loved a trip to the brewery, especially ones with dog bones and staffed by an impressionable bartender. She’d always pop her front paws up on the counter and demand treats. She loved airport pickups and put on a big dance of excitement – even for visitors who were strangers to her. And she was so excited for every visit to Eastlake Vet where she knew she’d get countless treats and praise for her fitness and demeanor. She just loved people and any place where she could make new friends.

Professionally, Kona’s started her career as the jobsite dog in construction and remodels and then made a few appearances as an Amazon dog. But her primary gig was being our emotional support through 3 moves, 2 layoffs, 2 major injuries, several family emergencies, and a global pandemic. She reminded us that we’ll feel a little better if we put on real pants and get a little movement every day.

Kona got to spend her golden years in Ellensburg, WA with more sun and more snow and a yard. Close by trails made for more outings. She finally learned the word “hike” and would Velcro to our sides as we gathered our gear. We have hundreds of pictures of her running amongst the balsamroot and lupine, following our tracks on Nordic skis, and swimming in the lake at Rotary Park.

Kona was preceded in death by Dexter (her best friend and occasional love interest) and by Omak (her biggest competition for Brendan’s affection). She is survived by countless loved ones who have cared for us and held us since her initial diagnosis last fall and prognosis last week. Our biggest comfort has been knowing that other people have loved her, cared for her, and miss her too.

Our house is quiet. We miss the jingle of the tags on her collar and her demanding groans for more pets. We miss falling asleep without the weight of her body pushing us to the edge of the bed as she maximized her real estate. We will miss her on what could have been her 13^th birthday that seemed so close in reach, and Brendan will especially miss her during the holidays after spending every one of her twelve Christmases together. We will see signs of her in most corners of the PNW backcountry, in the first snow of winter, and the black dog hair we’ll be vacuuming up for years to come. And we will love and miss her for the rest of our lives.

In lieu of flowers, we ask you to share a treat with your closest good boy or good girl, and we’d love any photos you’ve captured of our sweet girl to be shared here as we cling to the memories of our sweet girl.