This would be the second-last post here. It has ceased to be a 'Kiya-and-Louie' blog, because Kiya passed away in the afternoon on Thursday, 7 March 2013. She was given a sedative, and then a drug to have her sleep peacefully into death.

Fifa's father, Mr Rahim, and Fifa's sister, were there, together with Simon and me. We all said our goodbyes to Kiya.

I patted Kiya on the head while she slipped away from us. I whispered to her that I love her, my baby girl, my Kiya-ko, and that I am very sorry. I am sorry for not having loved her more in the last few weeks of her life.

Kiya was diagnosed with cancer. Hemangiosarcoma, a cancer that began in the spleen and spread to the liver. It had grown so large that it had pushed her liver aside, and it was not functioning as it should. She was jaundiced, and anemic.

I don't know how much she suffered. This is what still gets me, eats away at my heart.

Kiya has never been a healthy dog. First she came to us still on heartworm treatment, flushing out the dead heartworms from her system. Then it was a callous on her hind left thigh that became infected, and had to be surgically removed. And then it was her eye stye that grew too large and also became infected, and she had to have yet another surgery. She had hip problems - arthritis - and could never run for long, nor for long walks. She had recurring yeast infection in her ears, sometimes mites, that warranted her taken to the vet. She had skin issues that would flare up every several months. And not just three months ago, it was yet another skin infection on her left neck, which she scratched raw, and it was another trip to the vet, this time with a cone around her neck that had to stay.

So, when she began to be more lethargic, walking more slowly, out of breath, I thought she was simply ageing. If she was approximately 4 years old when she was rescued by Fifa and Mr Rahim, then she must be at least 8 years old now.

I admit that we were afraid that sending her to the vet for symptoms like walking more slowly and lethargy would only mean more tests. Tests that would be expensive and inconclusive, and would need even more tests. Tests that would show she was simply ageing, and nothing to be done about it, in any case.

Just a weekend ago, Kiya still howled with happiness when Simon and I came home with Mika after a brunch outing. She was still eating, though not as much as before. On Sunday, when we took the dogs for their evening stroll, she couldn't go further after she peed at her usual grassy spot. She simply sat down. We turned back then. On Tuesday, she rejected her raw food. I fed her the extra-yummy Orijen fish kibble - I offered her a mound of it - she ate most of it, but that wasn't Kiya. Not the Kiya I knew. She would have breathed it all down, and then lick my fingers for crumbs. She had a bully stick from Simon that night. But she ate it slowly. She refused all food on Wednesday.

Simon and Pauline, our helper, took Kiya to the vet on Thursday afternoon. I thought, maybe it is lyme's disease or something that caused to her have anemia, something that can be fixed, or that she is simply ageing. And the news came, and my heart was in my throat.

My heart broke when I saw her at the vet. How could I have missed her losing so much weight? Her ribs were showing. Her hair was dry. It used to gleam. Her coat used to be so beautiful, it shimmered. Her eyes were yellow, and so were her gums. But I did check them a few days ago, and they were merely pale. Was I so caught up with work and the baby that I was blind to these? This lovely, beautiful, sweet-natured dog, who only had love for people, and who loved me? That I could not even spend some time to pat her more on the head? Was it any excuse, to have a baby in my arms, a load of bags, an exhausting day of work, lack of sleep - to not give her a pat on the head, even if she was listless, and lying quietly by the door?


If I had known she was ill, even if a week earlier, I would have stroked her more. I would take her for a ride out in the car, with the top down, so she could stick her tongue out to loll in the wind. I would have taken her to the sea, just one last time, to have her paddle, if she still had the strength to. I would let her meet other dogs, especially small dogs - how she loved them! I would have fed her liver, tripe, strong-smelling fish kibble, duck, grass-fed beef. I would have given her more hugs.

I cry because I'd like her back, even for just a day, just a day more. So I could do all that with her, before I let her go. I had no illusions of detecting the cancer early. But I just wish I could have shown her a little more love, just before she passed on.


Adopting Kiya was Simon's decision. I remember clearly meeting Kiya for the first time. My heart was still heavy with grief for Moonshine. I was not at all taken by Kiya. While Kiya was generally friendly with people, it took her a long time to truly bond with a person. But she was sweet, and so pitiful, and so easy. An easy dog. She was good with people, and with other dogs. She was not a high-maintenance dog. She did not require much exercise (her hips). How could we not take her in, after having fostered her for months?

There were many happy memories. Just Kiya and I at the small Novena park, where I'd play fetch with her (not with a bouncy ball, but a plastic rubbery deflated ball). Meeting Louie for the first time in June 2009. Louie was terrified, Kiya, delighted. They chased each other at the park. Kiya discovering the joy of raw food. Rides in the cars - of my parents', of Angel's, Sam's, and then finally our car. Kiya was the dog, who brought my engagement ring. I was cooking pasta for dinner, and through the glass doors I saw her sitting and looking up at me, a pink ribbon tied around her neck, a diamond ring weighing it slightly down. At Novena, we'd go for walks to the mall, have a coffee at TCC or Baker's Inn or even at Harry's while the dogs watched the world go by, or to the larger dog park of Novena where Louie would sprint off-leash, and Kiya pottering about, watching Louie run about. Kiya also met Dennis, the cigar-guy who'd have a cigar at the park (ha), while Louie sprinted about and Kiya would sit by his bench. My memory of those nights were: cool nights, very quiet, puffs of smoke by the pale fluorescent light, the pelting sounds of Louie on the leaves and pavement, Kiya - just there. Happy, I believe, to be with us. Moving from Novena to our current house in March 2010. The cat incident in the yard and then later another beach trip to Sentosa with Sam, this time with Lou looking like a camel-goat (his infected skin on his neck hanging loose), Kiya swimming in the sea like a black mandarin duck. Paddling, her body buoyant and her legs painless. The dog hash with Denson and Simon and Louie, that, on hindsight, was stupid. She nearly collapsed with heat exhaustion. She recovered, and I hoped, happy with that afternoon of excitement of being part of a dog hash, with many new happy dogs and people. House parties, from Novena to our current house, of new people and friends. Visits from Denvy, usually with bully sticks. We took her to others' too, like Sus' and Nick's apartment, or to Laura's and Ding's. She loved it. The decision to put her at my dad's for about a year was mine, and that I did not regret, though with hesitation, but she was constantly with people. A full-time helper, students about. She finally came back and joined us in late-August 2012 when we finally had a helper. Shaving Kiya's hair with the Braun. Cleaning her ears and trimming her nails always a chore because she hated it. And then we were a family with the arrival of the baby.

To me and Simon, Kiya was very special: "My contract is with the child".

I told the baby about Kiya. How she would be a wonderful dog. How she would have protected and loved her with all her heart. She really would. Kiya was that sort of dog.



While I grieve, I do want to turn this into something positive. That Kiya would be a reminder to me not to have any regrets with the people I love. That I would not waste time on matters, that in the very end, do not matter. That I would love more, and treasure whatever time I have left with loved ones. To live a life, yes - as cliche as it is - without regrets.

Kiya - you are no more, but you will always, always be in my heart, and in my memories. I love you, my Kiya-ko.