A Short Tribute to Mika the Beagle by Adam...
A Short Tribute to Mika the...
It's always hard to say goodbye to a friend for the last time. And harder still, when that friend was full of unconditional love like Mika who wasn't just a pet, but a presence. A 13-year journey that began at a Kentucky flea market with a skinny little beagle and a whooping cough turned into something beautiful and sacred: family, love, growth, devotion.
Mika was the best dog I've ever known. She was sassy and dignified, endlessly curious and profoundly loyal. Her favorite things in life were deceptively simple: treats, sniff-filled walks, belly rubs in the morning, and sitting in a chair by the window to bark at the world. But in those daily joys, there was a kind of magic, a consistent reminder of love's simplicity and steadiness.
She had a sigh for everything: for when she was done with people, for the still moments on a Saturday afternoon, or when she didn't get her way. She snored loudly, and when she changed sleeping positions, she'd dramatically flop down, making sure I knew her new location. She loved behind-the-ear scratches, and no one gave a better "this is perfect" side glance than her.
When she joined our home, our springer spaniel Nala wasn't pleased. But over time, they found peace—even spending a night in dog jail together. Mika faced frequent seizures, but we held her through them. She never let them define her.
She adored my mom and stayed close to her, protective and watchful. She ate with my dad, happy to be included. With my brother, she lit up; he called her "bumble butt," and it always made her tail wag a little harder. With me, she was present. Through lonely nights, quiet mornings, and everything in-between, she showed me what it meant to love fully without asking for anything in return.
The most important thing Mika taught me was that love at its deepest is just about being near someone and wanting nothing more than their company. When I told a friend this, she told me her beagle makes her feel safe when loneliness creeps in. That is the gift these creatures give us: a glimpse into unconditional love when the world feels coldest.
Mika changed me. Her loss has left a void, but I know she understood how deeply she was loved. I thank God for her life and for the honor of having been her person. One day, I believe she'll be the first to welcome me to the next chapter beyond this one.
As my brother wrote, "Spring told all the flowers to bloom to show her greatness and the flowers obeyed with joy, opening, hugging, and welcoming the little queen."
Goodbye for now, Mika. You were, and always will be, the best girl.
It's always hard to say goodbye to a friend for the last time. And harder still, when that friend was full of unconditional love like Mika who wasn't just a pet, but a presence. A 13-year journey that began at a Kentucky flea market with a skinny little beagle and a whooping cough turned into something beautiful and sacred: family, love, growth, devotion.
Mika was the best dog I've ever known. She was sassy and dignified, endlessly curious and profoundly loyal. Her favorite things in life were deceptively simple: treats, sniff-filled walks, belly rubs in the morning, and sitting in a chair by the window to bark at the world. But in those daily joys, there was a kind of magic, a consistent reminder of love's simplicity and steadiness.
She had a sigh for everything: for when she was done with people, for the still moments on a Saturday afternoon, or when she didn't get her way. She snored loudly, and when she changed sleeping positions, she'd dramatically flop down, making sure I knew her new location. She loved behind-the-ear scratches, and no one gave a better "this is perfect" side glance than her.
When she joined our home, our springer spaniel Nala wasn't pleased. But over time, they found peace—even spending a night in dog jail together. Mika faced frequent seizures, but we held her through them. She never let them define her.
She adored my mom and stayed close to her, protective and watchful. She ate with my dad, happy to be included. With my brother, she lit up; he called her "bumble butt," and it always made her tail wag a little harder. With me, she was present. Through lonely nights, quiet mornings, and everything in-between, she showed me what it meant to love fully without asking for anything in return.
The most important thing Mika taught me was that love at its deepest is just about being near someone and wanting nothing more than their company. When I told a friend this, she told me her beagle makes her feel safe when loneliness creeps in. That is the gift these creatures give us: a glimpse into unconditional love when the world feels coldest.
Mika changed me. Her loss has left a void, but I know she understood how deeply she was loved. I thank God for her life and for the honor of having been her person. One day, I believe she'll be the first to welcome me to the next chapter beyond this one.
As my brother wrote, "Spring told all the flowers to bloom to show her greatness and the flowers obeyed with joy, opening, hugging, and welcoming the little queen."
Goodbye for now, Mika. You were, and always will be, the best girl.
Posted Online 1 week ago
