Lindy Kato (Writer)

Dear sweet Indy was named after a transmembrane transporter gene. A mutation in this gene causes fruit flies to live twice as long as usual. Relevant because it reduces body fat in the same way that calorific restriction would. I’m all in favour of having less body fat and yet not reducing calorific intake. Geneticists get to name genes they discover, and this one is called Indy (I’m not dead yet) which is a nod to Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Sadly, it didn’t apply to my Indy.

She had an appointment for routine vaccines on Monday the 7^th of September. I mentioned to the vet that she seemed off. She had breakfast in bed because she couldn’t be bothered with the Kong toy that holds her biscuits. The vet checked her over, no raised temperature, heart fine. So, she had her vaccines and we came home. I should explain that Indy was one of life’s enthusiasts, and she came as one of a pair (Indy and Nudge).

Even though we are a very long way from Kaikōura, the pups felt the earthquake a few minutes after midnight on the 14^th of November 2016. We didn’t. I was solidly asleep and my Sweetheart slept through the whole night, but there was no way the pups were staying in their kennel. Following the earthquake, the tsunami siren howled into action. Indy cartwheeled and pee’d at the same time with the shock of it all, urine hitting our high ceiling and the walls as well. Then came the cars honking their horns to alert any locals left in the beach houses who’d slept through the alarm … Sweetheart is still asleep at this point.

This was before the pelvic osteotomy, Indy wasn’t cheap. Cheaper than Nudge though, I’m writing a book about Nudge, to try and claw back some of the expenses from his titanium hips, (maybe late 2027).

What the osteotomy taught me was that Indy didn’t do drugs. Not even wrapped in cheese or bacon – and our relationship deteriorated because of my forcing antibiotics and tramadol down her throat. It was heartbreaking, she didn’t trust me. From a bold and happy pup, she became scared of everything. With a ton of training, she got better, and eventually the old Indy was back.

Which bought other problems because Indy had happy tail. This might sound like a good thing but truly it isn’t.

It all started when I took Nudge to the vet because he kept falling off the sofa. An ear infection – as I suspected – and the vet noticed his vaccines were due. I thought I could slip Indy in without an appointment, she would be due too. It should have been quick; a sliver of an appointment. However, because of her insane excitement she smashed her tail on the door frame so hard the tip split. Blood spurting everywhere, walls ceiling, desk, the vet and I were covered. She wriggled so much it took ages to get it bandaged. She was supposed to have a cone but, in the confusion, and with different people trying to clean up, I forgot. I got through $500 though! I’m not sure I should be billed for a vet induced incident.

That wasn’t the end of it. She was so ecstatic to be home she whacked the bandage off and the bathroom and bedroom instantly looked like a scene from the Bates Motel. Then again at doggy daycare, and again at home. It seemed the tail would have to be turned into a stump. With the whole-body wag going on, she wouldn’t notice a missing tail and perhaps it would’ve been the kindest thing – but eventually it healed. I was still finding blood spatter a year later.

Back to the present, Thursday, the 10^th of September, breakfast in bed didn’t cut it and now Indy had diarrhoea so we’re back to the vet. A few electrolytes should perk her up in no time. It wasn’t to be. Anal sac adenocarcinoma.

I miss our early morning snuggles where we lay back-to-back and she tries to get inside my skin. I miss her joy in everything and anything. I like to think I’m one of life’s enthusiasts but I’m not a patch on Indy. I know what dead means. Nudge doesn’t – not really.