A routine trip to the vet for bad breath turned into heartbreaking news for Kermie’s family. The 11-year-old Lab-Beagle-Chow Chow mix, beloved by Eric Ralston, a principal hospital corpsman in the US Navy, had been diagnosed with oral carcinoma.
The grim prognosis gave Kermie only two to three months to live, leaving her family devastated. Little did they know that Kermie had her own plans, and she refused to say goodbye until her cherished owner returned home from his nine-month deployment.
Eric Ralston had been stationed overseas in March, leaving behind his loving family, including Kermie. When Kermie’s bad breath raised concerns, Eric’s wife took her to the vet for an examination. The devastating diagnosis of cancer shattered their hearts, as Kermie had been their first “fur child,” and they couldn’t fathom Eric missing the chance to see her again.
As time passed, Kermie defied the odds and continued to thrive. Three months turned into several, and hope began to flicker within the Ralston family. With Eric’s deployment nearing its end, they dared to dream that Kermie might get the chance to reunite with him.
However, just 12 days before Eric was scheduled to return home, his deployment was extended, dashing their hopes. The approaching holidays intensified their worry, with Christmas on the horizon, and Kermie’s condition remained uncertain. Still, Kermie persevered, displaying a remarkable will to see Eric once more.
Then, a Christmas miracle unfolded. Eric’s homecoming came earlier than expected, and Kermie was there to welcome him. Adorned with a red bow, she sprinted from the house and into Eric’s loving arms. The reunion breathed new life into Kermie, who had been on her last leg. Eric’s presence was a magic elixir for her, rekindling her appetite and zest for life.
Jennifer Ralston, Kermie’s human mom, remarked, “His return was some kind of magic lozenge for her.” The once-struggling Kermie was now eating and drinking without difficulty, savoring each moment of happiness with Eric by her side. In January, Kermie celebrated her 12th birthday, a testament to her enduring spirit.
However, February brought a turn for the worse. The good days became fleeting, and the Ralston family knew the time had come to make a difficult decision. On February 22nd, Kermie lost her battle with cancer, surrounded by Eric and her loving family.
Kermie’s story is a poignant reminder of the bond between humans and their canine companions. It showcases the incredible resilience and unwavering love that dogs bring into our lives. Though Kermie’s battle ended, her legacy of love and determination lives on, reminding us of the power of unconditional love between pets and their owners.
Please share this heartwarming tale with your friends to celebrate Kermie’s life and the enduring bond between dogs and their humans.
The pet I’ll never forget: Ella the puppy threw up on me, snubbed me and after 10 years decided to love me
Mum, Dad, my brother Michael: everyone in the family got more affection from our ridgeback-staffie cross. And guess whose bed she used to poo on…
I think the tone was set when Ella threw up over me on the way back from the Dogs Trust. She was three months old, rolling around on the back seat between me and my twin brother, Michael (we’d just turned seven), and wasn’t enjoying her first trip in a car. She could have been sick anywhere – over the seat, over the floor – but for some reason she decided to climb on to me first.
It was the start of a beautiful but strangely one-sided friendship. Ella, a ridgeback-staffie cross, was the perfect dog: playful, energetic, naughty and tolerant. She would let us poke and prod her without complaint, turn her ears inside-out or dress her up in T-shirts or the thick woollen poncho my Greek Cypriot grandma knitted her for the British winter. And she was endlessly loving, at least to the other members of the family. Me? Too often it was as if I didn’t exist. If Michael and I were sitting on the sofa, she’d bound up to him. If I came home after a day out with my dad, he was the one she’d jump at. If I tried to take her for a walk by myself, she’d drag her feet and insist that I fetch my brother.
To add insult to injury, about once a year she would do a poo in the house. Not just anywhere, though: she’d climb the stairs to my room and leave it in a neat pile on top of my bed.
I can’t pretend I wasn’t offended by Ella’s attitude – I loved her just as much as anyone. But it took me a while to realise that in her eyes we were both bitches fighting for our place in the pack. I read that dogs are 98.8% wolf, even yappy little chihuahuas. Ella was a definite she-wolf and my mother (she who opened the tin of dog food every night) was the undisputed alpha female. Ella could handle that fact, but she didn’t want to be the omega female. That was me.
Working out the reasons for Ella’s lack of sisterhood, understanding that her indifference was atavistic and not just casual, didn’t make me any less jealous of my brother, who always took great pleasure in the fact that Ella seemed to prefer him. But I resigned myself to the situation. And then one day (happy ending, anyone?) everything changed. I must have been 16 or 17, we’d been away for a fortnight in France, and when we got back it was me she ran up to first, whining and twisting with pleasure at seeing me again. After that it was like all those years of competition had never happened. We were best friends for ever, or at least for the couple of years she had left. Ella finally loved me.
Leave a Reply