Mika, today would have been your 9th birthday.
We were a power couple. Me, the shy one, struggling to make conversation with anyone new, and you, always being there to break the ice and melt everyone’s heart with just one look. You were never Assaf’s dog – I was Mika’s dad, and I could not be prouder of that title, because there is no accomplishment in the world that even comes close.
The doctors say your heart failed, little one. It filled with fluids, but the truth is, your heart was always full – with the love you had for the people you cared about so much, each one a unique bond that you created. You had the biggest heart, little one, maybe it was too much to bear.
You are the love of my life, I miss you.
Every time I had a rough day, when I was stressed or just feeling down, you would pass by nonchalantly, tapping on the glass door with that look waiting for me to open it for you. You sensed everything I felt. You’d put your head on my lap, and when things were really rough, you’d let me give you a long kiss. I’d take a sniff, and you’d return the love with a gentle lick. Then you’d go, tapping on the door again for me to let you out—because, of course, you had a busy schedule ahead. And with all due respect to your dad feeling a bit down, you had more visits to attend, and you were already running late.
You were an independent soul, moving between floors in the office, working your magic on everyone so they’d give you a snack or play with you. I’d feel a little jealous, wishing I had your grace, assertiveness, and courage.
But every now and then, in the middle of your daily adventures, you’d think of me, maybe even miss me a bit. You’d start to run in circles, searching, crying for anyone who might help you find me. Then, I’d hear someone in the hallway shout, “Assaf’s here, Mika, you don’t need to worry.” You’d come closer, make sure it was true, give me a sniff, and continue on your way.
When we said goodbye, I tried to do that, too. I took one last, long sniff of you, but it didn’t work, Mika. I can’t just go about my day. I need you by my side; I don’t feel complete without you.
When you were a puppy, we worked on positive thinking. I used to tell you that you were Beyoncé, and like her, there was nothing you couldn’t do. And you always did. You were hard to get; people always wanted you just a bit more than you wanted them. We’d turn the A/C up so it’d be cold enough in the bedroom, and you’d have to sleep on the bed with us. Then I’d brag about how you agreed to sleep next to me that night.
When you were in bed, I’d let you pick your spot first (you always picked the middle), and I’d hold my breath, restraining myself from petting you even a little, out of fear you’d get up and leave. I somehow knew, even though I got all the love you had to give, how fragile it was—and how it could all end in a heartbeat. One wrong move, and you’d be right back on the couch, lying on your back, your head turned one way, your legs spread out like a bunny.
Because Mika, you are Beyoncé—you did whatever you wanted. Respect. Yesterday, you did it your way, too.
Maybe, for just a moment, I took the wrong breath, and, as expected, you got up and left. Only this time, you didn’t go to the living room couch. This time, you didn’t lay like a bunny.
This time, you left. And you are not coming back.
– Assaf Rappaport
