A Tribute to Cody

  I remember Sammy & Joe bringing you home. You were so small and cuddly with your tiny paws and soft fur.  You bounced around the room with eyes flashing and ears flopping. Once in a while, you'd make a little mess, just to let me know this was your territory.  Making a mess of the house and peeing on the rug became a passion, and when I scolded you, you just put your head down and looked at me with those innocent eyes, as if to say “I'm sorry, but I’ll do it again as soon as you're not watching.”  As you got older, you protected me by looking out the kitchen window and barking at everyone who came by.  When I had a tough day at work, you would be waiting for me with your tail wagging just to say “Welcome home, I missed you.”  You never had a bad day, and I could always count on you to be there for me.   When I sat down to read the paper or watch TV, you would hop on my lap, looking for attention. You never asked for anything more than to have me rub your belly so you could go to sleep with your head over my leg or rubbing next to me.   As you got older, you moved around more slowly. Then one day, old age finally took its toll, and you couldn't stand on those wobbly legs anymore. I knelt down and patted you lying there, trying to make you young again. You just looked at me as if to say you were old and tired and that after all these years of not asking for anything, you had to ask me one last favor.   With tears in my eyes, Mom drove you one last time to the vet. One last time you were lying next to her.
 For some strange reason, you were able to stand up in the animal hospital; perhaps it was your sense of pride.   As the vet led you away, you stopped for an instant, turned your head and looked at her as if to say, “Thank you for taking care of me.”