Pawprints on Our Hearts

We bought Kodi for our son for his second birthday.  It was our first pure-breed-with-papers dog.  We picked him from the litter and anxiously awaited the day when he would be old enough to take home to join our family.  Kodi was short for "Jakob's Kodiak of Fallbrook".  I guess when you have a "papered" dog you have license to come up with wacky names.

Puppies are hard work.  Kodi  was the pick of the litter. The alpha male.   Jake was a precocious two-year-old.  They would fight over who would sit on my lap, pushing each other out onto the floor and then crying.  For a few weeks, I thought we had made a big mistake.  I was exhausted by my toddler and our psycho puppy.

 

Over the years, though, Kodi became the best dog I have ever known.  He was awesome with kids, fiercely protective of our property, and funny too.  One time when we were sleeping at my bro/sis-in-law's house, E n I were discussing our upcoming Avocadofest party.  Kodi burped and it sounded like he said, "GUAC" really loud.  We laughed so hard we woke the house up.  He would also make Wookie noises if he really wanted to get our attention, like when there were apple slices on J's plate that he felt he was entitled to.

He was big and barrel chested, like most boxers.  He was great to hug.  He would follow us around and fall to the ground at our feet when we finally sat down.  He let our son ride him like a horse.  He didn't like it, but he tolerated it and never snapped at him.  He farted like no-one's business. 

He loved to chase thrown grapefruit.  He would jump high and pick them out of the tree, then get this really distinctinctively sharp yip that described his love/hate relationship with the bitter fruit.  He would follow and snap at bubbles.  He made our child feel safe in his bed at night.

Kodi died last week.  After dealing with a mysterious malady that almost killed him and put him on antibiotics and steroids for a few months, he had a heart attack in the vet's office while awaiting a routine blood check. 
We were devastated.  The vet's office is going to make a paw-print in clay for us. 

A few days later, E drew parallels between the recent loss of his father and our doggie.  Both lived life to fullest, right  to the end.  Right now, Kodi and Punky are living it up in the afterlife, binging on salami and beer.

Kodi sent another dog our way just days later.  Two, actually, but only one to stay.  (Another long story.)  He knew we couldn't bear to be dogless.  He knew that us taking in another dog wouldn't diminish our love or sorrow, but build a bridge to heal our hearts.  He was intelligent and loving and will live forever in our hearts. 

                                                    R.I.P.  Kodi.  We will love you forever.