“I didn’t think it would end this way.”

“End? No, the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey rain-curtain of this world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass, and then you see it.”

“What? See what?”

“White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise.”

“Well, that isn’t so bad.”

“No. No, it isn’t.”

Khaos has gone off on his next journey. He was 12 years old. The emergency vet said parts of his vertebra disks were too far gone, bone rubbing on bone, and that the spinal column in his neck was too narrow, causing pinching pain and the front leg paralysis.

I knew he was older, and anything could happen any day, but the way he sprinted across the yard the night before… I never would have guessed it would end this way.

Khaos was born October 9th, 2009. My journey with Khaos started in April 2010 when I literally rescued him. Born on a backyard-breeder Mennonite farm, he was rejected as a breeder simply because he was agouti. His siblings all sold for $375. He was 6mo and the ad said $50 and if not gone by the weekend he was going to a shelter. When I got there on the Saturday before Easter, I was told I had to wait because a family from Williamson called first and wanted to see him. And then the man brought him out.

Literally shoved into a filthy, tiny animal cage, he couldn’t sit without severely hunching. He trembled like a leaf in his filthy coat, covered with old, clumped up cow poop. Even though he had a thick husky coat, you could tell he was absolutely emaciated. His eyes watered and he couldn’t make any eye contact with me. He was the most miserable looking baby I have ever seen, and I worried he would die of anxiety. I knew right there it didn’t matter what he cost he was coming home with me.

The other family pulled in, the man greeted them, and gestured to where Khaos’ cage was plopped by the driveway. The family barely spared him half a glance, didn’t even break their stride, while asking, “Where are the other pups?” The younger, clean, symmetrical pups. Not this agouti, miserable creature who was terrified of the sky above him.

As soon as the family left, I grabbed his papers and threw the six-fingered asshole his $50, wrestled him out of the crate and plopped him on the car floor behind my drivers seat.

Khaos was far worse off than I thought. When I showed up at home with the miserable wretch, everyone asked me wtf o did. He couldn’t sit. Stand. Walk. He curled like a wooly bear caterpillar and just hid form life. My dad helped pry him open so we could first pull the clumps of ancient cow crap from his fur, then bathed him. I grabbed Storm (only a few months older) and dad and I tried to get him to walk. I ended up taking Storm while dad used the wheelbarrow technique to try and get him to at least learn how to use his front legs. After a tiring first weekend, he was able to walk. Storm was a HUGE help, laying beside him and offering him support, showing him that some humans can be trusted.

So many people those first couple of weeks kept telling me to put him down. He was TERRIFIED of men. Struggled to learn skills all puppies knew but he was forced to start learning at 6 months. We struggled to put weight on him because he had never been fed properly. Dad worked a LOT with him, and got him to realize not all guys are bad. Dad would eat Cheetos at night while sitting in a rocking chair. Khaos grew curious of this cheesey treat. Dad would get Cheetos on his way home from work, sit in the chair and eat some, ignoring Khaos while he let his cheese powder fingers dangle. Over weeks, Khaos got closer and closer, first sniffing, then kicking the powder off. Dad would start slowly moving his fingers. Then touched Khaos. Then, after 3 months with us, he finally allowed dad to pet him.

Meanwhile, Khaos slept in bed with me every night with Storm. Wherever Storm and I went, he went. People still told me he would turn out bad and I would have to euthanize him. I kept working and fighting for him.

Eventually he became almost normal after a year. He was offleash trained. Knew commands. Loved attention. He blossomed. He was becoming the pup he should have been from week 1 of life.

Khaos and Storm Eventually had 3 litters of pups together, and a better daddy dog I have never known. He guarded them as if they were gold, standing by the crate and only allowing certain people into my room (where they whelped). One time, when Storm came out for a break, he went in and laid down, only to hilariously panic when a bunch of 3-week old puppies tried to nurse from him.

When I finally got a sled, Khaos and Storm were my leads. And when Storm became too out of shape one year, Khaos quickly became my new lead, taking on the role as if he were born for it.
Storm and Khaos were a bonded pair. Hell have mercy if you separated the two for shots for brushing or whatever.

Khaos would do anything I asked of him. He would take food as reward, but much preferred affection and praise. And he always gave tenfold what you gave him.

I’m already struggling, KK, Daddy-Dog, Lovie. It hasn’t been a day, and I’m lost and the pack is a wreck. We’ll manage, because that’s what I promised you when you left on your new journey. But you taught me more than I ever taught you, and you were a best friend I can never replace, and a greater companion than Storm will ever know. I miss you, Dirty Face. ????????????????

I have to end this here because even if I wrote a thousand pages, it could never truly convey how unique and wonderful you were.