Love to you, Ivan.

It’s a rainy day. And he hated the rain.

I haven’t written this summer, because I have hated this summer. I have avoided this post, and though I have remained stoic, today when the skies opened up and cried, I cried too.

Hard.

We said goodbye to Ivan on June 26th, only about a month from his diagnosis of liver cancer. As I write this, a draft is saved below – “Borrowed Time” – an unfinished post started on the 19th of June, detailing our luck of Ivan’s continued presence. I knew at the time that every day was precious and a gift, but 6 weeks later I can’t help but think we were robbed of so much more.

When we lost Miah 3 years ago, there was a fanfare for her life. We held giveaways, started a fundraiser for Save a Pet of Niagara County, and I was able to post immediately of her loss. Now I know it was because I had him – Ivan was there. 

6 weeks later, there is no fanfare and no celebration. Just loss. Just grief.

When we lost her, I threw my arms around Ivan and buried my broken heart in his soft coat. He licked every tear that fell down my cheek. In his absence, there is a void that I’ve never before felt. A void that grows bigger with each passing day. It’s been easy to bury myself in work at the Shirt Factory, and I look forward to late afternoons at school to avoid going home. But sitting here on Fox Cross without Ivan, who relished in each summer spent on the cool, green lawn, has been too damn hard. 

When Ivan came home with me in February, 2006, it wasn’t an immediate love affair. He was “Ivan” because he was truly Terrible. He was a terror, a ferocious and angry little beast at just 8 weeks old.  

About a week into our relationship, I grit my teeth and taught him to sit. A poor college student, I enrolled him in every puppy class and socialization program to cure him of his meanstreak. And it worked. My once terrible little boy became the most perfect gentle giant the world has ever known. And we became thick as thieves and never looked back. 

I didn’t lose a dog when I lost Ivan. I lost my soul mate. I didn’t know when he came to me that he would see me through the hardest periods of my young adult life. He would bounce with me from city to city, house to house, apartment to apartment, always by my side and curled up in every bed. He consoled me, quietly, through divorce. Through loss. Through upheaval and heartache. And he was there to help me heal and discover a stronger, more resilient part of myself that – without him – I may have never found. 

Ivan was quirky. He loved Christmas, and hated rain. Had a sensitive stomach but adored spicy hot Cheetos and never had a problem with them. Loved cats, hated dogs. Would throw himself on the ground about 3/4 of the way through a walk just to roll in the grass. His favorite treat was always Pupperoni. Would dig his heels in on walks if he thought we were turning around. So, every walk was a giant loop and effort to throw him off of where the car was parked. Kissed his pony every morning during chores. 

Last year, Ivan got sick. So sick we thought we might lose him, two weeks before the wedding. I remember telling Scott that if we lost him, the wedding was cancelled, for there could be no joy during a time of such monumental grief.  But he got better, and was there to see his Mom and Dad get married, and completely stole the show. I am SO grateful that he did. 

So here it is. The post I didn’t want to write because I didn’t want to be real. Ivan is buried next to Miah here on Fox Cross Farm, where I can sit with them every day of my life. His pictures will surround me on the walls and his memory will be safely tucked away in my heart. And though I will never be the same without him, I will be forever a better person because of him. 

I will love you and miss you with every breath that I take forever, Ivan. Enjoy time with our girl until we all meet again.