Robin

Sepsis took both my legs. The hospital taught me how to transfer from wheelchair to bed or toilet. That was it. No help with real life — dodging stairs and narrow doors, cooking without burning myself, or grabbing a hot pan from the oven while sitting. I felt completely lost. Kuno had already started training as my mobility dog before the amputation — steadying me through dizzy spells and steps. After, we had to learn wheelchair life from scratch together. Every curb, every tight space, every new skill… just the two of us. Plenty of mornings I didn’t want to get up at all. Just wanted to stay in bed and hide. But Kuno would sense it and suddenly need to go out. Those eyes pulled me up, and I’d take him for a walk. Some days that was the only reason I left the house. He kept me from wallowing in self pity. When I felt ugly, broken, and totally unlovable, he still leaned right into me like I was everything. When I doubted I could keep going, he acted like I could move mountains. Because of him I started doing things I never thought possible from this chair. He gave me my life back. He passed in January 2025 and it completely gutted me. That loss still hits like a truck some days. Thankfully he stayed long enough to help me train his successor Chesnyy — like he was making damn sure I wouldn’t be left alone. Chesnyy is awesome and I love her to pieces, but man… nothing fills the hole my giant, stoic, gentle guy left behind. I miss him with everything in me, every single day. ❤️🐾 -admin #ServiceDog #Kuno #AmputeeLife