The Dog Walk

With pits in our stomachs and tears in our eyes, we embarked.

Five days after Kodie's last little breath, Bailey and I steeled ourselves and headed out for our "typical" daily walk. We've walked, for sure. But we purposely hadn't been on this trail, just the two of us, since the day before Kodie was diagnosed.

April 17 -- we hadn't a care in the world that day. I wonder if we even cherished the walk enough. As I look back at my calendar, I see that was the day I went to Microsoft Re-Mix in Mountain View. So now I remember, our walk was an abbreviated one, at 2:30 in the afternoon. My calendar also reveals that the day before, we had ironically all gone to the vet for Bailey's annual check-up, where Kodie snuggled up to the vet, but of course no one knew anything was wrong.

Back to the walk.
Bailey did his very best Kodie impersonation.
He fetched tirelessly, and more enthusiastically than usual.
He even came when I called him.
He was trying to show me we'd be okay.

But I still cried the whole time.
Because nobody laminated themselves to my leg.
There was nobody for Bailey to chase.
And nobody looked back to see if I was coming.
Our once happy, proud and unstoppable family was now quieted, meek, and fragile.
Bailey and I, clinging to each other's sides, afraid to step too far ahead of each other for fear we would find ourselves alone.

And at the end of the mountain hike, I put Bailey's leash on him, headed up the street to our house, and proceeded to say, as I always do, "it's the good boy Bodie, and the good boy Kodie."

I said it anyway. I figured Bailey wouldn't understand the meaning if I didn't finish the sentence.

Kodie Bear

I still remember the day we met.
We had driven two hours, up to Lodi, on a Wednesday evening.
And we had no idea who or what would greet us at the other end.

I got out of the car, and helped Bailey down.
“Where is he?” I wanted to be quick about it. It was a school night.“He’s just finished his bath – I’ll bring him out,” Jill said.

I sat down on the ground, expecting to meet someone timid, and not even sure we'd want to leave with this person.
Just then a happy fluffy furball came bounding towards me.
It seemed he was going to crash into me, but he put on the brakes, turned his body around, and sat his buns right down on my lap.

And that’s pretty much how we’d spend the next three years together.

As long as I knew Kodie, he would run towards me with vim and vigor and delight. And then he'd slow down, lean in, and get in the snuggle.

If I sat down, on the couch, on the bed, or at my computer, he would jump up beside me and put his head on my lap.

If one of us laid down on the couch, he would find the cubby hole behind our knees and curl up inside it.
If I reached for my keyboard and tried to type, Kodie would intercept my hands with his head, directing me to pet him rather than stare so seriously at that silver box. He was teaching me to lighten up.

On our walks, he was my workout partner. Always three steps ahead, he'd set the pace, and then look back to make sure his trainee was coming.

And oh, how he loved to fetch. First, he'd crouch into the cutest little fetching stance, which would actually give him a first-mover disadvantage. Then he'd watch the ball intently, and move to it ever so quickly. He'd snatch that ball out of mid-air, lifting all four paws off the ground like a soccer star, and then prance around in wild celebration. Finally, he'd drop the ball so his big brother Bo could bring it in and have all the glory.

He was thrilled to go anywhere, but his favorite walk destination was the beach. The first time he saw it, he galavanted so wildly, we wondered if he was having a seizure. Nope, he was doing the “rocking horse wild man,” and he did it everytime he got around ocean water.

He took his first swim at the bay near Maverick’s. Grandogma was in town, and she stood by and cheered as KoBear pumped his little shoulders and struggled to keep his head above water.

He was always the one I could count on to do my dirty work. Bailey wouldn’t come? Just tell Kodie to go get his big brother Bo.  Sho' Nuff, he’d run down mountains, over cliffs, and across entire beaches to fetch that doggie, even if it meant making 2 or 3 trips. A golden retriever, indeed.

It is with unspeakable sadness that I report the little baby Kodie went to sleep forever in my arms Friday morning, as I sang him songs about his life, and petted him in all his favorite places. The vet, who’d known him all of four days, sobbed uncontrollably.

I'm still searching for answers as to why this little boy, who charmed the pants off everyone with whom he came in contact, could contract such a virulent form of cancer at such a young age. Our house is so lonely and quiet without our favorite little cheerleader, Bailey’s little puppy, Kodie.

But I am comforted by all the pictures we took. The fact that we celebrated every day. And never took him for granted. 

I have fond memories of great hikes, swims, trips & adventures. And I am ever-so-grateful the little guy was in our life. He brought tremendous energy, spirit and love to our household. He taught me the merits of remaining a puppy. How by showing love, you will be rewarded with love. And the almighty power of an ear-to-ear golden retriever smile.

And so, it is in honor of Kodie, that I begin a quest to keep our pets happy, healthy, and cancer-free. This blog will be central command for everything I can learn about dog health, the appalling rise in pet cancers, what we should be feeding them, whether holistic veterinary medicine works, and how we can keep man's best friends alive longer. Because really, is there anything more important?