Update 11.21: What a bittersweet special night. Your loving gaze and straining to nuzzle my face will haunt me forever as I treasure the memory of our last night. But we both knew it was time. I put you in the car, and then just couldn't get in for that fateful trip to the vet, until Rana sent a special poem (see below). We stopped for one last look at the beach and waves on this cold November day. You walked into the vets with their support, but wouldn't go forward unless you could see me. I gave you liver til the last moment as we again touched noses and locked eyes. I've been wailing for days now from the depths of my soul and don't think there will ever be another dog as peaceful as you. Never a fight in your life; you knew how to calm all situations.Kody, I miss you intensely.
We had alot of fun in spite of your cancer. Remember dog-sledding, living out in the country, all our drives up north, sleeping with me and Kiska through those hard years of my illness when I couldn't take you out, going to our special beach, getting lost there one Christmas when you two found a porcupine- I could go on and on. You loved everyone and were so gentle. You helped so much in my training business with the fearful or aggressive dogs; you taught them with dog language how to avoid conflict. What will I do without you?!
11.20 Some may think I'm crazy to write this as you lie next to me. They already think I'm crazy for lots of reasons, so this is nothing new. For the past 2 days I haven't been able to do much of anything but cry, talk to you, and hold you. You had been doing so remarkably well lately, your eyes so bright and kind, always a wagging tail to greet people, you helped me with other dogs in the Training Studio, you always "ran" to the door when I went somewhere so you could join me, even though you needed a ramp to get up in the car. Your coat is still puppy soft and healthy, and you turn over on your back to entice anyone to pet you.I'm so glad Stephen got to see you, since the last time he saw you was when you were 3 months old, and he thought you had alot of spirit in your eyes as you got up to greet him.
Then suddenly it seemed, the pain in your paw where the tumor is got bad, and your back legs weakened so you can hardly get up.The last thing I want is for you to suffer, so I made an appt with the vets for yesterday, but Friday night you came around, and I knew neither of us was ready.
I thought I was ready for you to go, having been given the blessed gift of such strong health in spite of your dire cancer diagnosis a year ago. But Kody, I'm not ready to let you go and don't want you to leave me. You've always been the supreme gentle one, who never asked for anything, never rude or pushy, always polite and wise beyond your species. You were always just "there", following me from room to room to settle and "be" with me, in your unobtrusive way. You still are; in spite of your frailty, you move from room to room to be with me, and know when it's time to go to bed and you sleep right next to me.
I know you know your journey to Spirit has begun. You're still with me, but I've seen Kiska and Chester anxiously awaiting your arrival on the other side of the Rainbow Bridge. Also, my father calls to you. You aren't eating or drinking today, and it was hard to even get your pain meds in you, but I think you handle pain alot differently (and alot more gracefully!) than me. I dread tomorrow, knowing today and tonight will be the last time you're there to comfort and protect me.
We will never forget you.