My Velvet Bandit

She used to steal my pajamas. I would go to get ready for bed and my pajamas would be gone from my bed. I had a dogie door then, and Kishka, Hannah and Jiggy would come in and out as they pleased. So would my pajamas. Kishka, for some never to be known dogie reason, would take them out in the yard and that is where I would find them when I got ready for bed. I'd make sure there were no bugs in them, dress for bed and be surrounded by dogs all night long. Hannah slept in my bed, Jigs by the east window and closest to my head slept Kishka, my protector, my best friend and my pajama thief.

I know she would give her life for me. She killed more chickens than I can remember, nearly killed my goats, caught mice and was always with me, almost a part of me. Our souls are entwined like the vines of wild grape that grow on the front fence. Kishka is a Belgian Malinois, the first I have ever had; my best friend and I miss her so.

She has been gone three days and I have cried myself to exhaustion every day. I've called, driven the back roads, questioned neighbors, called the pound, all the usual things. I fear she is gone, shot or stolen, I don't really know. And my heart has a huge hole in it that may never be filled again. Dog people know what I mean. Dog people know the bond that is formed, closer than family, a connection that cannot be put into words.

She was beautiful. Mahogany was her official color, her face and ears black. Her ears were like velvet. She was and still is my velvet bandit. She had the most beautiful eyes and down each side of her head those black Malinois tears. She laid at my feet where I could touch her with my toes. She would come by the arm of my chair so I could touch her head and back, a light touch, reassuring that bond between us, I'm here, I love you, I will stay by your side. I loved her gentle snore, so comforting in the darkness of night, letting me know she was there and happy and life would be OK.

Life isn't OK. I'm not sure it will ever be OK. She is gone and I don't know what has happened to her. Is she in pain? Is she trying to come home? Is she alive? If not, did she suffer? God knows the answers and I wish He would tell me. I wish I knew....

Three days of torture I've gone through praying she would come home, praying for a call from someone who has found her, praying. My heart is broken and only time or her return will fix it. Time, never ending, never enough, waiting. My soul mate, my best friend, my faithful guardian; Kishka, please come home....