Miracle Failing: The Loss of My Friend

I first met Kita through the woman who would later become my wife.  Karine and I met when she joined the staff at the company where I was employed.  After she had found a series of improbable excuses not to go out with me, I finally resorted to guilt and manipulation.  In other words, I got a “pity-date.”  We had agreed to meet at Starbucks in Boca Raton, Florida.  Unfortunately, there are at least 3,000 Starbucks’ in Boca Raton, Florida.  Following a little confusion, in which Karine became very irritated, we finally met at her parents’ restaurant.  It was April 22, 2005, two days before my 37th birthday.

Approximately a week after our fateful dinner, she invited me to her apartment to meet her children, Bruce and Megan, and her dog, Kita.  Before I arrived at her place, Karine warned me that her kids were “spirited.”  Of course, the translation for this is: “Completely nuts with an uncommonly violent reaction to sugar.”  She also warned me that Kita, who was a very large dog, didn’t really care for men.

I arrived at her development and eagerly knocked upon her door.  I was very nervous about meeting her children.  I would later learn that I should have been terrified but, that is an entirely different story.  My apprehension, however, was overshadowed by the anticipation I felt about spending time with the woman of whom I had grown quite fond.  In addition, I was going to get to spend time with a dog!  Bonus!  This is something I hadn’t been able to do since I had left Wisconsin over two years earlier.  I had never heard of the Akita breed prior to meeting Karine, but I felt very confident about meeting her “Big Dog.”  I had grown up with a small herd of Golden Retrievers.  So, I knew “Big Dogs.”  No problem.  I would win this dog’s love and affection in the first five minutes.  So, brimming with the confidence of the woefully uninformed, I strode to the door.  I soon learned that all of the time that I had spent with the congenial goof-balls, none of whom possessed a shred of dignity when it came to begging for food or affection, did nothing to prepare me for the 100+ pounds of bristling hatred that greeted my first knock.

Karine cracked the door with a nervous, self-conscious smile.  I, however, hardly noticed her smile as I was transfixed by the six inches of fang-filled snout that came through the door at approximately waist-level.  Karine was quite physically fit but I had serious reservations regarding her ability to control this rabid beast that seemed to be hell-bent on my total destruction.  As she opened the door a little further and eased Kita forward to sniff me I assumed that, at any moment, I was going to be severely mauled.  Kita backed off, a little, and Karine invited me in and suggested that I refrain from making any sudden movements.  This seemed like a very sensible plan.  So, in slow motion, I entered the Lair of the Beast.  My movements remained almost non-existent for the majority of the evening.  Once I was inside, however, Kita seemed to relax considerably.  But, I figured, better safe than bloody.