Farewell, Kiwi

...a leap and a catch...

I wanted to say a few things about the Carter-Johnson dog named Kiwi.

She was a cross between a poodle and a cocker spaniel.

She would take the cocker-spaniel stance with one foot up when she would see a bird, which was so unusual, because for the most part, she looked like a poodle.

Rebecca reported on Facebook that Kiwi had died.

Kiwi's first week with the Carter-Johnsons

I didn’t know until Mary sent me a note.

Such a sweet little dog.  Thirteen years with her, and how many times did I laugh.

I feel like I need an open mike funeral for her.  How many stories would be told.

kiwi's favourite spot by the window

I think it was just a night ago or so when I was face timing and Rebecca and I couldn’t talk for she was barking so loudly. That would have been because some of her pack were coming home or else she was seeing someone walk by.

For 13 years Kiwi was ever present — maybe I feel this connection because I stayed so long with Steve and Rebecca in Victoria.

But it was more than that — all of those years out at the lake.

Stealing the pancakes one day from the Bates’ house, then running back to bury them in Arta's backyard.

Finding that dirty mud hole to roll in that is always wet between the Wood’s house and the Bates’s house. Even in times of drought, that spot is good for rolling over in the mud. And she had it marked on the property.

.... Kiwi in the smoke-filled Shuswap skies of 2017 ...

I threw that tennis ball more times than I wanted to for her.

It was like an addiction, that dog panting beside my chair and rolling the ball around so that I would see that she wanted to do another run.

I threw that ball all over Steve’s back yard in Victoria, and all over my 1/2 acre — always trying to trick her. 

Kiwi and family at top of PKOLS

Remember, when she had enough, she would just lay there with the ball in her mouth, panting and resting up for the next round of toss.

 In the early spring I could always walk around and find tennis balls from the previous year, caught in the branches of some bush or soaking wet down by the stream.

 For some reason, I know how much dog food to put out. So I must have been in charge of that dog at some point.

Kiwi as a pup

And oh brother!  Remember this year when  2 year old Betty would take the dry, round tiny pieces of brown dog food and drop then in the water?   

The dog food would expand in the water and now looked like Cocoa Puff Balls and would float there all day.  Certainly, Kiwi didn’t want them anymore.

And there was no way to stop Betty.  If Kiwi didn't get that dry food at the instant when it was put out, she would have no food for it was down on the ground, just where Betty would see it every time she walked by.  Plop and splash! Another handful of dry dog food into the dog's water dish.

Rebecca in a selfie with Kiwi and her peeps at Mile 0

How many times did I see the kids playing some kind of video game in the basement and Kiwi was sitting beside them, just like she knew what was going on?

And if I shooed her off of beds once, I did it 1,000 times.

Credits:  Estafania Gayosso on Facebook

Did you ever see Kiwi asleep, both legs in the air? What was that position all about!  (Maybe she learned it from Rebecca - I hear Rebecca can sleep on her side with one arm pointing up to the ceiling, balanced on her shoulder joint just so).

The term, a dog’s life would be a good one when it refers to Kiwi.

Two boys who adored her.  Steve and Rebecca who felt the same way. And so many aunts, uncles, cousins and friends who can all remember diving their hands into clumps of her white curly hair or tossing a ball, just one more time for her.

 I will remember that dog.

Arta

Kiwi Carter-Johnson (2005-2017)

From Mary Johnson

My Haiku for Kiwi

Paw resting on ball
She feigns sleep beside her boys
On call to retrieve

Eyes peer and head tilts
Turn your back in the kitchen
Morsels disappear

Tears and fears released
Face buried in curly fur
Heart healed with wet tongue


For a story that tells about Kiwi's life see

https://carter-johnson.blogspot.ca/2011/10/my-favourite-childhood-story.html

Betty and Kiwi

 ... at rest with my food and water, at last ...

Kiwi is fed dry dog food every morning and she has a bowl of water.

 As long as 2 year old Betty Blanche Johnson has been here, Kiwi’s dry dog food has been found floating in her water, rehydrated and looking like a round chocolate breakfast cereal.
Kiwi is no longer interested in the cereal nor the water.

There was no way to stop Betty from dropping the dry dog food into the water. A firm word from her mother. A dark look from her father. She hung her head at both and moved away from the bowl.

 But no one can watch Betty for every moment of the day, and and for days the majority of the dog food has continued to float. The Johnson’s have gone back to Calgary.

 I tried to throw a few of the dried dog pellets into Kiwi’s water this morning for old times sake. Rebecca protected the dog from any teasing. Kiwi rests peacefully now beside her bowl and water.

Arta