Vacation Happens ... the bad; part two

Koda Bear

On Saturday of our vacation, two days before it was time to go home, I was lying on a pool chair soaking up the sun, and Dorsey was out on a dive. My mornings in Curacao had become predictable like that. The vacation was quite lazy and relaxing, for the most part.

Then Jordie called me, clearly upset, to tell me the bad news. Koda, our 12-year-old female golden retriever, had died. After only displaying normal age-related issues — but nothing major or serious — she just laid down and died after a bout of vomiting during the night. I felt stunned.

My initial concern had been for Jordie, however. He felt bad not only because Koda had died (and he was there to experience it while handling 10 other animals), but that he hadn't wanted to call us and ruin our vacation. I learned later that he had called all around Amarillo trying to find help with what to do with Koda. He couldn't find any, so he finally called me. 

Koda's favorite spot when
we had that chair. 

In my effort to help Jordie, I didn't have deeply upset feelings about Koda's death. That's what I do. I shut off until I can fully comprehend. It's actually a great coping mechanism because I can deal with crises better. 

My first and only thought was to call Rohn Butterfield, Dorsey's ex-wife's husband. Jordie likes Rohn (who was once his Sunday school teacher and had helped him a few times with high school math and science problems), and Rohn and Vicki had had their fair and unfortunate share of experience with losing beloved pets. I knew they would know what to do.  And I knew they would help because that's what they do. 

I called Rohn. Left a message. I called Vicki. Left a message. Probably less than two minutes later, Vicki returned my call, and I explained what had happened and asked for help. They immediately stepped in to take care of Jordie and Koda. I'm not sure I have ever been so grateful. 

After it was all said and done, the gloomy, awful feelings set in. All the what-if's. All the guilt. All the sadness. All the fears for Dorsey and for Indy (Koda's life partner and best friend). I'm sure the people around me at the pool were thinking, "What the heck!? This woman is crying in the middle of such beauty?" 

Mopey Indy needs lots of extra TLC right now.

Telling Dorsey was a miserable experience, too. He had had a great diving experience. And then everything changed for him. Dorsey's dogs are sacred creatures to him. 

I wanted to go home. I wanted to be with Jordie and with Indy. I didn't want to be in Curacao any longer. Vacation was over, as far as I was concerned. We'd had a good time anyway.

But we stayed and tried to make the most of the rest of our time there. In a blanket of sadness, we went through the motions of doing whatever people do on vacation. 

I bawled the last leg of our trip home. We were going home to a house without Koda, who was pretty much the most perfect dog who ever lived. Dorsey called her a "9th degree Golden Retriever." (That's just a silly thing Dorsey does. Indy is somewhat of a 5th or 6th sometimes because he's ... goofily imperfect.)

Gift from my friend Lisa.

As we have gotten ready for Christmas, put up our tree and decorated (that's another story), waded through feelings of loss for my parents, baked, cooked, shopped and wrapped presents, Koda's absence has produced a noticeable pallor in our home and our moods. 

Again, Lisa created and gave us this
memorial of Koda for us. She went through
all my Facebook photos and found the ones
of Koda to put on this cross. 

Jordie picked up Koda's ashes for us last week. We haven't decided what we will do with her yet. We're trying to figure out the most perfect memorial for the most perfect girl dog ever. 

Oh, how we love and will miss that girl! Nothing can or will replace her. She will forever be in our hearts and memories, and I am grateful for the 12 years of unconditional love we received from her.