Kelsie

2012 - 2025

It is with a broken heart that I have to make the sad announcement that Kelsie, my sweet and beloved companion, has passed. She died peacefully at home, lying on my chest with my arms around her and surrounded by her loving family. I’m absolutely broken, and have never felt such pain before in my life. It’s impossible to sum up her life in a few words, but I wanted to share a bit of what she was about. She was more than a pet. She was my soulmate, my best friend, my doggie-daughter, and my proudest achievement.

Anyone who knew Kelsie knows how incredibly sweet she was. She had the gentlest and sweetest disposition I’ve ever seen in a dog. Even when we would roughhouse and wrestle, I could purposely put my hand in her mouth and tell her to bite me, and no matter how excited she was she was extremely careful not to bite down hard and hurt me. She loved to cuddle, and if you’d just met her and she was willing to snuggle up to you then you knew you were in. If you were petting her and she rolled onto her back for a tummy rub then you were golden.

Her love was unconditional. Despite all of the rotten things I had to do to her in preservation of her health, she would still curl up in my arms or lie on my chest to give me the warmest cuddles and sweetest kisses. No matter how many times I took her to the vet to be poked and prodded, how many pills I had to force down her throat, or how many syringes of nasty-tasting liquid I would maker her swallow, she would gaze at me with eyes that said “I love you” and “I trust you.”

She was determined, knew what she wanted, and was going to get it. When it was time for bed, she would let me know and lead the way. If I didn’t follow immediately, she’d come back to find out why and insist that I come along. Even on her last day, she surprised me by taking our full usual walk, and she was determined to complete it, even mustering the strength to break into a trot a few times. Despite her weakness, occasionally losing her balance and falling over, she was determined to complete it.

She was incredibly sharp and smart as a whip, never ceasing to surprise me with things she’d figured out how to do or new ways she’d found to communicate with me. Our connection was almost telepathic. She picked up tricks and commands easily, figured out (for the most part) her puzzle toys, and even had me wrapped around her paw enough to know how to get me to fill them. Though not one of the more complicated ones, one of my favourites was her “Weeble” – a big, heavy toy with a weighted bottom and a single small hole for dispensing treats. Not only did she know exactly how to make it dispense treats, if it was somewhere that she didn’t like she managed to figure out how to hook her jaw into the hole and carry it someplace else.

Kelsie was strong, not only physically, which as a puppy she definitely was, but mentally and in her fighting spirit. She endured an awful illness, multiple complications, frequent vet visits with constant, repeated testing, multiple extended hospital stays, and never once gave up. Her doctors frequently commented on how she’d endured and bounced back from severe infections and progression of her disease, often telling me, “she’s a fighter.” She stole the hearts of everyone at the hospital with her calm and sweet demeanor and just wanting affection. The hospital staff had fallen in love with her and were always equally happy and sad to see her – she warmed their hearts with her presence, but of course a visit always meant that something was wrong.

We were inseparable soulmates, joined at the hip. Whenever we were apart, we both felt each other’s absence intensely. I couldn’t sleep without her in bed beside me. Her spirit would sink when I was away, uninterested in playing, walking or food. When my sister tried explaining to my four-year-old nephew what was happening, he said “so it will be just Daniel? Not Daniel and Kelsie?” Even at such a tender and innocent age, he understood our bond and that we were always together. Supposed to be together.

She was young at heart. Kelsie has always loved to play. As a puppy her excitement was obvious when I’d ask if she wanted to go see Brodie – her best friend at the off-leash park. It saddened her when he stopped coming, but we had a blast together training on the agility equipment. Playing tug-of-war with her she would grasp the toy so tightly that I could lift her completely off the floor, and she’s the only dog I’ve ever known to throw the ball back when playing fetch, which she still continued to do in her final days. She loved to play hide-and-seek with me at home, and it got harder and harder to fool or mislead her because she was just too sharp and too smart. Even hiding in the shower with the door closed couldn’t fool her.

Everyone’s favourite trick, and hers too, was waving to people. It always got amazed smiles and earned her an endless stream of treats. When she got excited looking for a treat she’d run through her whole repertoire in a sequence hoping to hit the right one – sit, wave, turn around, lie down, roll over.

Our story was meant to be from the start. The fact that fate brought an unexpected connection back to my grandparents through the breeder – a long story in its own right - and our instant connection from the moment we met, is all you need to know that we were destined for each other. She learned her first trick at six weeks old, less than an hour after we met. I have always been incredibly proud of her.

We’ve had over thirteen years of love, joy and companionship, including six months she was never expected to have, and I will be forever grateful for the time we shared. She has been at my side for over a quarter of my life, and I will forever feel the void beside me and the hole in my heart that she left behind. I love you baby girl.

I end with a poem I wrote when she was a puppy:

She chews on my stuff, she whines through the night.
She bites at my hands, and runs out of sight.
She makes me crazy, and angry and sad, but a kiss on the nose and I just can't stay mad.
She sleeps at my feet and runs like the wind,
She leaps in my arms when she sees me come in.
She forgives and forgets after trips to the vet's,
and though she drives me half-mad I'm glad I'm her dad!
I love you Kelsie!