My First Heartbreaks

I have been lucky enough in life and love to have my heart almost fully intact until my 20s.

Surely, there were cracks upon the teenage realization that I had completely isolated myself. My heart fractured watching my mom grieve her father. And I felt splinters losing the sport that I dedicated my adolescence to, but I only recently experienced something resembling true heartbreak.

I have also been lucky enough to grow up in a family of animal lovers. Thankfully, my dad will never say no to animals. 

Growing up, our tiny suburban yard was always occupied by multiple critters. In my senior year, my sister unexpectedly came home with a cardboard box of ducklings, and my dad excitedly bought them a pool. 

Through the ducks, hamsters, and plethora of rabbits, was my wonderful golden retriever, Franklin, who loved each one of them.

When we were surprised by the birth of five rabbits after adopting a pair, Franklin gently sniffed the small kits and looked upon them lovingly. He would often wake up to find that a cat or rabbit had snuggled into his deep orange coat while he was sleeping. As he got older and significantly chubbier, he would waddle through the yard after the ducks, wanting to be included in their outings.

Franklin loved people. He wanted to be petted by everyone and anyone, and he was known in the neighborhood for his people-watching position in our front yard. 

He was infamously dramatic and stubborn. He would whine and nudge you until you pet him, but he would make sure to sit just out of reach, making you move to meet his request.

He was also a terribly food-motivated dog and would protest on walks by sitting next to the road where a discarded bag of chips or coveted piece of pizza lay. He would wait for what seemed like hours until we had to pick up or just give in. But he always had a “good dog day” when he found food on his strolls.

Somehow, even with his trash-picked diet, Franklin lived to be almost 14 years old. In those 14 years, he chased thousands of shadows, went on routine car-ride adventures, and was lovingly spoiled. In return, he spoiled every creature he came across with unadulterated love, even our somewhat evil Henry Dog.

Months before Franklin passed, I was on the phone with my mom when I overheard my dad ask if “Kobie Cat had come home yet?” The answer was no. Kobie Cat, our spectacular cat of 10 years, still hasn’t come home.

My sweet Kobie was, at some points, my only friend as a teenager. Grappling with anxiety and depression, I had become accustomed to holing up in my room for days on end, watching reruns of “Law and Order: SVU” with my Kobie Cat.

I’ve never been the best with people, but I’ve never found it hard to connect with or understand an animal. They are honest and pure.

Pets, in our house, are treated as humanlike equals, but the loss of the smaller animals showed the clear distinction between a pet and a friend. A rabbit or duck never showed the depths of their inner lives that we were lucky enough to observe with Kobie and Franklin.

Kobie understood me, and I understood him. My sweet, playful boy.

Every day, before I soldiered on to school, I fashioned a nest at the foot of my bed out of a soft white blanket adorned with pastel dinosaurs. Kobie would stand by my feet, waiting for his accommodation, then promptly curl into the blanket, and it made everything a little bit more okay because I knew at least my Kobie needed me. 

And despite Google telling me otherwise, I am absolutely positive that Kobie’s eyes watered up as he nuzzled into me when I held him for the first time after being away at school. 

I am grateful that I got to say goodbye to Franklin, the closure I never got with my dear Kobie Cat. My sisters and I made our long drives home from school upon the news that his health was rapidly declining. 

He was in terrible shape, but in true Franklin fashion, he popped out of his somewhat comatose state and sat up when I stopped petting him for the last time, leaving to race a blizzard back to school.

They both lived wonderful, love-filled lives. 

I only wish to be lucky enough to come across two more beings as kind and loving as my dear friends, Kobie Cat and Franklin.

• Experiences
• family
• pet loss