Miki Imagawa-McCornick 2010-2023

Our little girl, Miki, died in the night last night, shortly after midnight.

I immediately called Taku, who is on a tour in Hokkaido with his mother. He had been calling every few hours for an update. We knew she was at the end of her time,  and thanks to Facetime he was staying current. Friend Bill is here to help me through this awful time and these past few days our lives all revolved around sweet Miki, as she struggled under the weight of Cushing's Disease. Not a comfortable way to go, but we were spared the need, at least, to have her put to sleep, and for that I am very grateful.

She and Bounce, her twin sister, had just turned thirteen. If I were king of the world I would never have designed it this way - ten or twelve years of often pure joy followed by a month or so of quiet agony. I didn't need the reminder that I'm not king of much of anything.

Miki and Bounce came to us from the pet rescue organization, Milo. Our friend Doris had gotten wind of a pet adoption day at the local Petfood Express and we went along out of curiosity, "not shopping; just looking", or so we thought, for a pet. One foot in the door was all it took for both Taku and me to fall instantly in love with five little girls, just a few weeks old, all born to a chihuahua mama in Manteca. And some stray Scottish Jack Russell terrier daddy - we were never quite sure. I zeroed in on Miki, Taku on Bounce, and we might have locked horns over this except that the solution presented itself immediately as obvious: we would take them both. It took a couple weeks, because they had to be spayed and vaccinated for rabies. The first invoice I have for Miki from Dr. Carlos Yang at Thornhill Pet Hospital for a new client exam shows Miki weighed in at 8.07 pounds at the age of four months. We were a family of four: two daddies, one from Japan, one born in New England, and their two little mixed-race native-Californian daughters.

The Milo Foundation, that wonderful pet rescue bunch of folks took her in as "Cinco de Julio Puppy Four" and called her Pinta aka Mickey (sic) and her sister as "Cinco de Julio Puppy Three" aka Jalapeña,

Miki in her younger years

 aka Bounce. Their birthday remains unclear; I have no idea where the "Cinco de Julio Puppy" designation comes from. We know from other records they were born sometime in the first two weeks in May. We settled on May 14, my birthday, and have had a three-way birthday celebration every year for the past thirteen years. Pinta got called Mickey because she had a Mickey Mouse marking on her back. In honor of her Japanese daddy, we changed the name to Miki. Her sister got the name Bounce because she had the habit of jumping vertically off the ground like a helicopter, repeatedly, when excited, which was pretty much all the time.

Taku and I sleep in separate bedrooms - rumor has it I snore - on separate floors. For reasons neither of us can explain, Miki took to sleeping with Taku, Bounce with me. Not exclusively, but most of the time. I came to understand how a mother can love all her children equally while quietly acknowledging that they are more on the same wave length with one of them, and at the same time really love watching one of them edge a little closer to the other parent. Miki was definitely Taku-Daddy's little girl. There was no jealousy; it warmed my heart to see them together, Miki squirming around in Taku's bed keeping him awake at night, Bounce in mine doing the same. Life has been very very good.

This is the last photo we have of her, taken two days ago.

We now have to learn to live with Miki's absence - a new giant hole in reality.

I try not to get sentimental. Try to avoid talking or thinking about "the rainbow bridge" people refer to when their children lose a pet.

So far, without much success.

photo at top: Miki (left, out front) and Bounce at Cesar Chavez Park - their favorite place to run free.