I remember the morning of May 19, 2009 so clearly. Dad had been out, in spite of the early hour. When he came back home, he came into the bedroom. There were men with him. I barked of course, as that is part of my job to bark when there are strangers in the house, especially in the middle of the night. I soon saw that the strangers were police men, and I immediately got the sense that they were there to help. Dad came over to the side of the bed, and sat next to mom. He quietly and very sadly said these few words, “Kenny is dead.” He then bend over mom's body and started to sob.
“Oh, No!” My friend, and human brother, Kenny was dead. I wasn't so sure what that meant, but it could not be a good thing. My dad and mom were just too overwhelmingly sad.
Kenny had been sick. Right before I came to live with my family, Kenny was diagnosed with an anxiety disorder and depression. He had been in the hospital multiple times, he was taking medications, but he still missed a lot of school. Most days, he couldn't go to school, so he stayed home. He would lie on the couch, watching TV and I would curl up with him. He was kind and gentle. At first, he didn't want me to come home because he thought that three dogs were enough! But he quickly came to love me and think that I was a cool little dog. I even visited Kenny when he was in a hospital in Pennsylvania. Because I am a small well-behaved dog, I get to go a lot of places that many dogs do not get to do. I am glad I got to see Kenny that day.
As the sun rose, that Tuesday morning, People flooded our home. And then the priest came. I remember as the humans gathered in the living room to pray. The canine members of the family, Lucky, Luna Boxster, and I did so too. We silently walked into the room, and sat around the priest and watched as he said words. They were kind, reassuring words, but the words seemed to make mom cry more. The four of us dogs prayed, too.
As the days passed, Kenny did not return home. “Dead” must mean gone forever. I don't like that word, “DEAD”. I wish that Kenny would come back. The house has been so quiet, and everyone, including all of us dogs, are sad.Lots of things started happening in the house, I am not quite sure I understand it all. Words like “discrimination due to the way he died”; “died of the wrong illness” were repeated by different people in the house. Some people said that we should be ashamed of Kenny. Why would we ever be ashamed of him? Kenny was a kind-hearted boy, always able to make others laugh. He had friends. He had a girlfriend. He was a hard working student, who flourished in school, when he felt healthy. He was a successful athlete, specializing in swimming. I remember a story that mom always tells about how Kenny frequently gave other hospitalized kids his clothes because they arrived with just the shirt on their backs. Kenny had an illness. No one should ever be ashamed or embarrassed because their child has an illness. People discriminated against Kenny because they felt that the illness was imagined, or he should just deal with it. Would someone say that to a person with cancer? When Kenny died, our family, especially Katelyn, our human sister, was treated differently. Mom says that “no family should go through the pain of losing a child, and then have to face discrimination or ridicule because of how they died. The death of any child, no matter how it happens, is the worst pain that any parent can feel.”
Then the family got busy. It was all Katelyn's idea. Mental illness is like air. Just because you don't see it, doesn't mean it isn't there. It is all around us. T-shirt designs started. Green and white wristbands were ordered. Walks and concerts and events to raise the awareness about mental health got organized. Our family planned a car wash, attended Battle of the Bands and Flea Market at local schools. National A.I.R. Awareness day was established. This is a day of kindness and empathy to all, no matter what our difference may be. I had become mom's constant companion so I went to all events where a little dog was allowed.
Mom brought me to lots of classes. She worked with me a lot on her own time too, and before you know it, I had my AKC Canine Good Citizen (CGC) certification. Then mom took me for another test. It was the Bright & Beautiful Therapy Dog certification.
For my therapy dog test I had to do lots of hard things...especially because I took the test in a place I had never been before. The floor was made of weird material called foam. I had never been on a foam floor before, so when mom asked me to do a DOWN, I just looked at her. I wasn't about to do a down on that foreign surface! Then I had to do some sits, and stay, and then a recall at 20 feet. That was all a breeze. I had to walk into a fake elevator with two other dogs, and then I had to leave a piece of tripe on the floor and not touch it. That was hard because it smelled good. It was something I had never had before. But when mom says “leave it”, that means that I don't touch it or look at it, no matter how good it smells. Finally, mom and I were walking and there were about 10 very loud people all around us. One person was even banging pots behind me. It did startle me a bit, but I was with mom, and I trust mom will not ever put me in danger. I eventually did that down. After all of the other stuff, the down was easy after all. I passed and that night became a certified Bright & Beautiful therapy dog.
Next my family started to go into schools and talking to the students about mental health and suicide prevention. They took me along when the school administration would permit it. Mom said she saw a wonderful thing happen. The kids were drawn to me. They all rushed up to pet me. I have to say it was a little scary sometimes to see so many hands reaching out for me at once. I always trust mom, that she will never take me any place where I will get hurt. I really like all of the students that I got to meet. Some of them would hold me as they petted, and then they would relax. Many of these students started to share their story and their struggles with mental health issues or suicidal ideation. I will never judge or criticize. That is the wonderful thing about being a dog...there is never a need for judgment.
Too many young humans are struggling. 1 in 5 suffers from some sort of mental health issue. Less than 1/3 seeks treatment. This is due to the stigma and misunderstanding about mental illness. Many people think that mental illness is about lack of intelligence. It is quite the opposite. Those who are afflicted with mental health issues, often have an IQ of at least 10 points higher than the general population. When Kenny's school tested him at the age of 6 it was found out that he had the long-term memory of a 29 year old.
Suicide is a symptom of an illness. It is not a choice.
A whirl wind of activity started. I was invited to the AKC Meet the Breeds at the Jacob Javits Center in NYC on November 19, 2011. It was a lot of fun, and I got to meet so many people that day. Mom, dad & Katelyn got to talk to lots of people that the best suicide prevention plan is a good mental health awareness program.
Then it was onto Orlando. Mom and I waited in the airport with the gentleman who helped make the decision to share my story. He told us at first, that the story was “too difficult”. Suicide is not a fun topic to think about. But he told us that he kept coming back to our story that it was so compelling, and he felt that the AKC must share the story with the nation. Our entire family applauds the bravery of the AKC for addressing such a difficult topic and recognizing that it must be brought out into the open so people will get help.
It was a magical. I was a celebrity for those days in Orlando. People in the hotel would recognize me and ask to pet me. They would ask about our mission, and mom would share the message of A.I.R. - to start THE conversation about mental illness and suicide prevention. Education is key.
The night of the award presentation was a once in a lifetime event. It took place at the Eukanuba National Championship Dog show in the Orlando Convention Center on December 17, 2011. What most people did not know that on that same night, only three years earlier, December 17, 2008, Kenny had made his first suicide attempt. Who would think that in less than three years, a little Pomeranian, not of “quality bloodlines” would be there among all of those incredible dogs, being able to share my story, Kenny's story? Memories of that night will stay with me forever, a constant reminder that we are doing what we must do. That people, and little Pomeranians, must speak up for those struggling in silence.
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