This isn’t easy for me to talk about, but I’m going to do my best. I have been so busy with work and other things that I’ve blanked completely on blogging and videos, and… it’s just been a fucking weird ride. And now with the MET and 3AM clock out times, (bigger paycheck) it seems a bit fucked that i’m talking about this kind of thing, but that what we all signed up for right?
So, here goes.
Our dog of fifteen years, my Valentines Dog, Kodiak Bear, passed away two days ago.
It’s hard to describe what I’m going through, a river of differing and competing emotions..
Anger that I wasn’t able to help him out more in his final days.
Joy that he’s no longer suffering from his affliction.
Sorry that he’s gone.
Grief from the massive, dopey hole that he’s left behind.
There are so many thoughts roaming through my head, so many stories I could tell you about that 80 pound bastard of a best friend, that it’s almost impossible to nail down everything.
the ones that could come to mind are the most memorable two.
this was just after a few years or months after we had got him, he was a Katrina rescue, and he was just the biggest pain in our asses ever, almost always trying to run away or doing something. I was 24, and was taking him for a walk, the leash must’ve slipped or something, because after a few steps, Kodes had figured out that he wasn’t on the leash anymore, or that I was holding the leash, because he simply just fucking bolted, he was a short, stubby little thing, but god fucking damn it, was he a fast littler fucker.
So, I bolted after him, for fifteen minutes straight, or what felt like fifteen minutes straight, I ran after him, full tilt, across busy streets, through peoples yards, almost getting hit once or twice myself before I simply just tackled him to the ground, and I mean, I had to push myself to get enough speed to knock the little guy to the ground. This dog was short, and looked fat as all fuck, but, all that fat looking shit, was really muscle, he for a few seconds, he fought against my grip around his belly and chest, but after that, I picked him up, and hoisted him over my shoulders like a farmer would a sheep, and carry his 80 pound ass all the way home, which was about five or six blocks.
The second story, is a bit more chill, it was seven or eight years later, I had just turned 27, and it was a few days after we had just gotten Max. It was in the middle of summer, and I had just gotten home with Caasi for one of our dates. kodi was in the front yard, barking his happy little head off, and we decided to play with him a little bit, which simply meant throwing the ball around while he showed little interest in actually retrieving the damned thing.
There wasn’t any wind that day, and it wasn’t too hot in the High Desert, but after a while, he laid down on the drive way, and I laid down next to him, she laid down next to me, and all three of us, it seemed like all three of us, just watched the only cloud in the sky slowly make it’s way across the sun.
In his later years, he’d slow down, but not enough for the squirrels to take advantage.. I don’t think he slowed down, maybe he just didn’t feel like running as much. His toenails clicking always kept me from getting a good nights rest, but then again, I’m going to miss it, he’s constant pacing about, but we later found out that he had a thing, I’m not going to talk about the thing, just know it wasn’t a pretty thing, and it drove him abso-fucking-lutely nuts.
I called him my Valentine’s Dog, because I got him shortly before Caasi and I broke up for the last time. Best damned dog ever.
Rest in peace little buddy.