Mika (pronounced Meeka) was a Belgium Malinois. She was born July 12, 1999 and entered Rainbow Bridge on November 9, 2011. She was a retired explosive detection dog who worked a short five months before it was learned that she had suffered from nasal cavity damage as a puppy and she could no longer work. The very first time I saw her – as a working dog – I fell in love with her. We were honored to be able to adopt her. The loss of Mika was very hard and tore a hole in our hearts – and it is only now on the eve of two months since losing her that I can write about her.

Mika came to us on May 1, 2002 - just short of three years old. Before that time Bruce and I were alone at home – all our kids grown and gone. We had been discussing potential of having a dog but could not agree on the type – I wanted a lap dog, Bruce wanted a big dog. Mika was both. She soon became my 75 pound lap dog and would gingerly crawl on my lap and sit. When we brought her home we knew nothing about her; what she ate, if she could be trusted alone, or even if she was house trained. Within days we learned it all – and we were quickly trained. We learned that she loved to eat wood – and initially only ate the wood decorator fence around the flower gardens in the yard. We used to take her for walks in the country and she would try to carry back tree branches so large that they would extend two feet out both sides of her mouth and she would be on a dead run towards us – while we were scrambling to move out of the way so not to get mowed over.

She taught us that treats were a favorite. She would get a treat for going outside, and one for coming back in. A treat before bed - and a couple mid-day. And a treat just for looking so darn cute. She would beat us out the door if there was a hint at getting to ride in the car – she loved to go for rides and sometimes we would just take her around the block. She went everywhere with us (mostly because she could not be trusted alone at home); and she would wait patiently in the back of the SUV until we returned; and of course she got a treat when we left the car and one when we returned. She taught us that the only place she was comfortable sleeping was between us on our bed and if we dared to come to bed after she had settled in for the night, she would playfully growl at us letting us know her displeasure in the fact that we were disturbing her.

Mika was afraid of everything; wind, rain, thunder, the vacuum, someone chopping vegetables, any noise--- no matter how loud, and at times even her own shadow.

She was totally a people dog – she tolerated some other dogs –always by her own choice, but she loved people and desperately needed to be with humans at all times - and we soon learned she suffered from separation anxiety. She was invited NOT to return to several boarding facilities because of the separation anxiety thing. When she was separated from ‘her’ people she would “deconstruct” the house, or dig several holes in the yard, and broke out of a couple of boarding kennels – hence invite to not return. We had a contractor on speed dial who would ask “wall or door frame”? Mika took down both multiple times (we were slow learners). Eventually, she went to day care while we worked – until two years ago when Bruce retired and I started to work from home – enabling her to languish in her own surroundings day in and out without a care in the world.

No words can describe how we loved her and she was most certainly part of the family. She was gentle and kind and everyone in the family loved her as well. As she grew older she got arthritis and I started to worry about the day I would need to make that hard decision; but she made the decision for us. The day before she died she went into our grandchildren’s bedroom and carefully picked out a stuffed dog from the basket of stuffed toys, and spent the day ‘mothering’ this toy dog, licking it and sleeping with it between her paws. Before this time she never touched the toys. That night she was acting strangely -- panting hard, not wanting to stand up, and not wanting to be on our bed, so I slept in her bed with her and Bruce paced, and I told her if she would just stay with me through the night I would ensure her pain would be gone the next day. The next morning she suddenly collapsed and went into convulsions and had seizures. Bruce and I made a sling with a sheet and carried her to the car and drove the mile to Shiloh Veterinary Hospital where we were met in the parking lot by Dr. B - her vet. Right there in the back of the SUV with Bruce, me and Dr. B, we all kissed her and said good bye, and Dr. B released her from her pain.

We learned that Mika had a severe brain tumor that had been undetected. I said Mika taught us… she taught us the unconditional love of a dog and there is a huge hole in our life without her - but she will always live in our hearts. I suppose someday we may get another dog but not for awhile, however I now know when that day comes; I definitely want a big dog!

Thank you for letting us tell Mika’s story!

Bruce And Nancy C.