Kahlua and Peppermints

Kahlua was born in 2001 and last week on December 5, 2013 - in usual form, he tugged and pulled us along the path, pointing us on to the final destination - Heaven.  No, it wasn't a rabbit, it wasn't a squirrel, it wasn't a bird - although either of those would have been close, very close, to heaven.  Kahlua was pushing 13 years old (91 in dog years).  Known to me as 'boogger' - he was the finest friend you would ever want or need.  Too often, I took him for granted.  Why?  He was always there, just waiting.  Just waiting for me.  It didn't matter if I was gone for 30 minutes or 5 days - he greeted me with the same excitement and joy with the wagging of the tail and the whimper of happiness and nibble on my hand that said - "I'm so glad to see you!  I missed you!  Welcome back!  Can we play now dad?"
 
I wasn't worthy of his presence.  He was a king among kings. A servant, and king. 
  
On that Thursday afternoon, I cleaned the house a bit - packed up his bedding, his bowls, his left over food and vitamins, his blankets and toys still laying around the house.  I moved from room to room and removed all remembrances of my best buddy.  On my sink were dozens of peppermints, the peppermints I would collect at various restaurants around town - eating out all those evenings and coming home with a pocket full of peppermints that I grabbed on the way out the door - eating a couple and saving a few for my best friend waiting for me at home.  I'd give him one or two, then toss the rest on the counter, to save them for a rainy day.  He knew they were there.  He knew they were there and every now and then as I got ready to go each day he would sit and stair at me and when I glanced his way, he would shoot his eyes to the sink top where the peppermints were.  'Hey, come on, just one?! I'll be good - I'll be good, I promise - just one?!"
   
I was saving them for a rainy day.