Malika: Gone But Never Forgotten
Malika.
When asked to describe her in one word, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Because there isn’t one word to describe Malika. You’ll need a whole dictionary.
She was my dream dog. She was my nightmare.
She wasn’t easy to love, but I loved her anyways.
She was the first dog that was really and truly mine. I had just gotten settled in after moving out of my Dad’s house, and had just started looking for a dog. I was already involved in rescue, and we had just taken in a purebred, female GSD, estimated at about a year old. I volunteered to foster her, without seeing her. Little did I know what I was doing.
I named her Malika, which is Swahili for “Angel”. And she was my angel. She was extremely scared of people at first, and it took her so long to warm up to me, I knew it would be cruel, trying to re-home her. And I admit, I was attached. So I adopted her.
She was high prey drive. She chased anything that moved. Cats, squirrels, birds, rodents, anything. In one attempt to get a squirrel that was IN A TREE, she tried to crash through my double paned glass door. She cracked the first pane.
She was food-motivated. She quickly learned how to open the cupboards and the refrigerator in order to steal food. I have an extremely large refrigerator/freezer combo, fridge on bottom, freezer on top. I had five pounds of ground beef in the freezer one day, and she managed to get up there, open it, get the beef, from the back, and close the door again. She managed to eat all the beef, and very little of the paper.
She was energetic with a capital E, capital N, capital E…you get the picture. We would jog, walk, run, ride a bike, and for hours, Malika wouldn’t get tired.
She flunked out of obedience class. Multiple times, different classes. Apparently, trying to chase all other dogs and nipping at them is not considered good manners. That was why she was IN obedience class in the first place, because of her bad manners. After the fourth flunk-out, I trained her myself, with the help of a trainer.
She wasn’t reliable off-leash when we went anywhere. She would run like a bat out of hell and would not come back, no matter what I did. She was fine in our semi-fenced yard, as she always stayed close. But a park? Forget about it.
She was protective of me like you wouldn’t believe. One day on one of our walks, this jerk came up to me, and to put it nicely, he wasn’t very respectful. He was harassing me. He also wasn’t very bright. I had a 90lb GSD with me, and he chooses to try to threaten me? Malika growled, then she air-snapped, and finally, she bit. On the leg. Didn’t break skin, and the guy left. Quickly.
She was loyal. She never left my side. She snuggled with me in bed, and she followed me around all the time. My constant companion, she was attached to me, and I her.
She was gentle. No matter how big she was, she was so gentle with children it was unbelievable. She would be rough and play-fight with other dogs and adults, but not children. She would lick their faces, and was so tolerant…
I had had her for five years when it was revealed that she had developed hemangiosarcoma, a form of cancer that develops in blood vessels. It had progressed to her spleen and liver.
We first removed the tumors from her spleen and liver, and then started radiation and chemo to kill the remaining cells. Her prognosis wasn’t good. She survived the treatment, with the same amazing spirit.
I brought her in to conduct tests to find out if the cancer was gone. They said that they would send me the results in a week. I was hopeful. My girl was strong, and I was sure that she’d be okay.
She was lying in my yard, dozing, when she heard the neighbor kids playing loudly next door. There is only a partial fence between our two yards, and she trotted over to see what was going on. The family knew me very well, and they knew Malika. They weren’t exactly dog fans, but they respected her, and she them.
Malika sat down, about a foot over the border into their yard, simply watching the kids swimming in the pool. She was worn out from all the treatments, and vet visits, and a bit tired. The mother saw Malika watching the children, clearly relaxed and at ease. She thought that she was threatening her children, and grabbed her husbands hunting rifle. (The people were gun and hunting enthusiasts. They had their own mini-armory.)
I dashed outside when I heard the shot. She was lying on the ground, on her side, trying to get up. I ran to her, and held her. She had been shot in the chest, and I knew she didn’t have much time. I told her I loved her, and she licked me. She died in my arms. I got a rug, and lifted her body onto it, and carried her into the house.
I immediately called my dad, as well as my friend that works in rescue, the one who picked her up from animal control five years before. We arranged to have her cremated, and I have her ashes, next to a picture of her.
A week later, the vet called. My friend was with me at the time, and answered the phone. She came back, and sat next to me on the couch, and told me what the vet had said.
The results were negative. We had got it all. Malika was healthy. My baby girl was cured.
-Rosefern
Malika.
When asked to describe her in one word, I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t. Because there isn’t one word to describe Malika. You’ll need a whole dictionary.
She was my dream dog. She was my nightmare.
She wasn’t easy to love, but I loved her anyways.
She was the first dog that was really and truly mine. I had just gotten settled in after moving out of my Dad’s house, and had just started looking for a dog. I was already involved in rescue, and we had just taken in a purebred, female GSD, estimated at about a year old. I volunteered to foster her, without seeing her. Little did I know what I was doing.
I named her Malika, which is Swahili for “Angel”. And she was my angel. She was extremely scared of people at first, and it took her so long to warm up to me, I knew it would be cruel, trying to re-home her. And I admit, I was attached. So I adopted her.
She was high prey drive. She chased anything that moved. Cats, squirrels, birds, rodents, anything. In one attempt to get a squirrel that was IN A TREE, she tried to crash through my double paned glass door. She cracked the first pane.
She was food-motivated. She quickly learned how to open the cupboards and the refrigerator in order to steal food. I have an extremely large refrigerator/freezer combo, fridge on bottom, freezer on top. I had five pounds of ground beef in the freezer one day, and she managed to get up there, open it, get the beef, from the back, and close the door again. She managed to eat all the beef, and very little of the paper.
She was energetic with a capital E, capital N, capital E…you get the picture. We would jog, walk, run, ride a bike, and for hours, Malika wouldn’t get tired.
She flunked out of obedience class. Multiple times, different classes. Apparently, trying to chase all other dogs and nipping at them is not considered good manners. That was why she was IN obedience class in the first place, because of her bad manners. After the fourth flunk-out, I trained her myself, with the help of a trainer.
She wasn’t reliable off-leash when we went anywhere. She would run like a bat out of hell and would not come back, no matter what I did. She was fine in our semi-fenced yard, as she always stayed close. But a park? Forget about it.
She was protective of me like you wouldn’t believe. One day on one of our walks, this jerk came up to me, and to put it nicely, he wasn’t very respectful. He was harassing me. He also wasn’t very bright. I had a 90lb GSD with me, and he chooses to try to threaten me? Malika growled, then she air-snapped, and finally, she bit. On the leg. Didn’t break skin, and the guy left. Quickly.
She was loyal. She never left my side. She snuggled with me in bed, and she followed me around all the time. My constant companion, she was attached to me, and I her.
She was gentle. No matter how big she was, she was so gentle with children it was unbelievable. She would be rough and play-fight with other dogs and adults, but not children. She would lick their faces, and was so tolerant…
I had had her for five years when it was revealed that she had developed hemangiosarcoma, a form of cancer that develops in blood vessels. It had progressed to her spleen and liver.
We first removed the tumors from her spleen and liver, and then started radiation and chemo to kill the remaining cells. Her prognosis wasn’t good. She survived the treatment, with the same amazing spirit.
I brought her in to conduct tests to find out if the cancer was gone. They said that they would send me the results in a week. I was hopeful. My girl was strong, and I was sure that she’d be okay.
She was lying in my yard, dozing, when she heard the neighbor kids playing loudly next door. There is only a partial fence between our two yards, and she trotted over to see what was going on. The family knew me very well, and they knew Malika. They weren’t exactly dog fans, but they respected her, and she them.
Malika sat down, about a foot over the border into their yard, simply watching the kids swimming in the pool. She was worn out from all the treatments, and vet visits, and a bit tired. The mother saw Malika watching the children, clearly relaxed and at ease. She thought that she was threatening her children, and grabbed her husbands hunting rifle. (The people were gun and hunting enthusiasts. They had their own mini-armory.)
I dashed outside when I heard the shot. She was lying on the ground, on her side, trying to get up. I ran to her, and held her. She had been shot in the chest, and I knew she didn’t have much time. I told her I loved her, and she licked me. She died in my arms. I got a rug, and lifted her body onto it, and carried her into the house.
I immediately called my dad, as well as my friend that works in rescue, the one who picked her up from animal control five years before. We arranged to have her cremated, and I have her ashes, next to a picture of her.
A week later, the vet called. My friend was with me at the time, and answered the phone. She came back, and sat next to me on the couch, and told me what the vet had said.
The results were negative. We had got it all. Malika was healthy. My baby girl was cured.
-Rosefern
Last edited:
