Letter 33 – Koda

 

Dear Garrett,

Your dog is the best animal ever. In the days after your death, I know he had to be missing you. And the house was heavy with grief. I don’t know how many months it was that I cried with sound. Out loud. I’m not usually an out loud kind of crier. I think it takes a lot for a person to cry out loud. Sobbing, is probably the better word. And every time it happened, Koda would come running. He would put his paw on my arm, or nudge me with his head, or lean up against me. And he wouldn’t leave. He would stay for however long it lasted.

Koda is not a demonstrative dog. He is not a lap dog, he doesn’t sleep with us. I used to feel really special when he’d lay down on my foot. And he’s big. 85 pounds. But he’s gentle. Smart. Sensitive. He was so concerned about all of us when you were no longer here.

He’d get really concerned when we went somewhere and then we separated. He didn’t like that. Later that spring, Genevieve had a soccer game and we took him with us. We used to do that all the time, the year before. Kevin would sit at the sidelines and I’d take Koda for a long walk around the fields, and we’d catch the last of the game when we got back. He loved it. I’d take the leash off and we’d wander, and I’d throw a ball.

This time, he didn’t want to leave Genevieve’s field. I thought once we were far enough away that it would be fine, and we’d have a nice walk. When we got a fair distance away, I took his leash off and started walking ahead. He stood there for a minute, watching, and as I turned around to call for him, he took off. Koda almost never takes off. The only other time I can remember is when he saw a deer and he couldn’t help himself. This time, he took off and ran back in the direction of the fields. I called and I yelled and he never turned around. I ran after him but I didn’t catch him before ran straight onto the field and found Genevieve. He just couldn’t stand it when he couldn’t keep track of all of us. We had to stay together for his peace of mind.

I believe he was a great comfort to you and he was your great friend. And now he’s my great friend.

I saw a human friend once when I was out walking with him. It was the first time I saw her since you died. We were embracing one another when I felt a paw touch my arm. I looked straight across and there he was. Koda had stood up on his hind legs behind my friend and leaned against her ever so gently, and joined us in our embrace. Thank you, Koda. You are pretty much the best dog, ever.