I wrote Dear Kim when my little doggie Spring was still with me. He was the love of my life in a way only animals can be. We moved through our days together, even though he bonded more deeply with my mom than with me. He came to us as a baby. But not from a shop. My family has never bought pets from shops, and I hope no one else does either because those puppies usually come from inhumane mills. There are many documentaries that explain this clearly, and once you understand the reality, it changes everything.
Spring came from a mother dog that belonged to someone we knew. They knew we had always hoped for a puppy, so they offered him to us. He arrived in my life like a present. Literally.
Before Spring, another acquaintance gave us their dog. It was a married couple with a child. They believed their child wasn’t focusing on school because of the dog, so while the child was away at a weekend camp, they gave the dog to us without telling him. I remember that dog clearly. He had an injured hind leg, so he limped, but to me he was perfect. I bonded with him instantly, and we grew close in only a few days.
Three days later, the parents called us. Their child had come home, realized the dog was gone, and threw such intense tantrums the parents couldn’t handle. They told us they needed him back. I was devastated. If they couldn’t manage their child, they should never have given the dog away. The next morning, the family came to our house with the child and took him from me. I cried so much because they handed me something precious when I never asked for it and then took him away right after I began to love him. It was my birthday. We never spoke to that family again.
My parents felt awful afterward, so they started asking around to see if anyone had a dog they were willing to give away. That is how Spring came into my life, during a moment when my heart was already bruised. At first, Spring and I didn’t bond easily. I wasn’t unkind, but I wasn’t affectionate either. I was simply too sad to let him into the space I had just lost.
A few days later, when I came home from work, I found the entire place a mess. Spring had knocked over the trash can and scattered everything across the floor. I was so upset. That night I told my family I couldn’t keep him. I didn’t even want to see him. So my mom took him to a family friend who wanted a dog. They liked him and decided to keep him. I genuinely thought that I'd never see him again.
The next morning, we received a call very early. Our friend said no one in the house slept at all because Spring cried through the entire night. The moment I heard that, I felt guilt wash over me. We brought him home that morning as soon as possible, and he stayed with us for sixteen years. My mom went to pick him up, and in his mind she became his rescuer. Throughout all sixteen years, she remained his favorite.
I carried the regret of giving him away that night for the rest of his life. I loved him deeply every single day, but he never loved me as much. I accepted that because I believed it was my fault. Even with that, my love for him never faded. If anything, it grew.
A few years before he passed away, I became sick. I caught a severe case of covid that turned into long covid with symptoms doctors couldn’t explain. My health declined to the point where I had to quit teaching, which I loved more than anything. I went from doctor to doctor trying to find a cure. During that time, I couldn’t care for Spring the way I used to. I couldn’t play with him or be as present with him as I wanted to, but he stayed in my heart. I kept telling myself that once I got better, I’d give him all the time I had missed.
But before I recovered, Spring became sick first. It started with his teeth. We had to extract a few because they were infected and rotten. After the first surgery, the teeth next to them became infected too, so he needed a second surgery. Even after that, the oral issues continued. A third surgery wasn’t possible because he was too old. The doctor told us he might not wake up from anesthesia. Our family agreed not to put him through that risk. We didn’t want the last thing he saw to be strangers in surgical outfits.
We brought him home and watched him slowly slip away, all while doing our best to love him and care for him every moment we had left. When he passed away, he passed in my arms. I felt his heartbeat stop. Even now, I still think I’m the one to blame for the way he passed. I feel like it was my fault he didn’t receive more treatment because I was sick too.
More than a year and a half has passed, and I still tell him I love him every day. I still miss him every day. I hope he forgives me. I hope he wants to see me again someday. I want to believe he’s waiting somewhere else. If I didn’t believe that, the grief would feel impossible to hold. I also hope he wasn’t too sad that he passed in my arms instead of my mom’s. I hope he knows how much I loved him and how sorry I am.
When I wrote Dear Kim, Spring and I were both healthy. I wrote the book out of love for him, and I dedicated it to my mom because I know that’s what he would have wanted. He loved her the most.
Thank you for reading this long story and letting me share a piece of my heart with you. I hope this book brings you closer to your dog. And if you’re reading it after your pet has passed, I hope you know they’re not gone forever. It’s only a goodbye for now. Just like me and Spring.