Cody

Hello friends and family,

I wanted to let you know that our dear old friend Cody has died. He was fifteen. He has been a bit of a biological miracle, given his medium to large size. He was slowing down significantly, sleeping a lot, lost his hearing and much of his sight, was having difficulty getting up and down, but he maintained his sweet nature and enjoyed his food and walks to the very end. He did not suffer, and died in his sleep.

I often said that Cody “won the dog lottery.” He was found astray on a cold January day in 1994 on the banks of the Ohio River with mangled footpads and worn-down toenails from living on the rip rap.

In his glory days in Southern Illinois, he would drag logs out of the woods and energetically spit them at a person’s feet then step back all bright-eyed and panting in a generous invitation to what, in Cody’s mind, was the most wonderful game in the world. Fetch was his way of relating to people. We figured his parentage was some mixture of Australian Cattle Dog and Smooth Haired Collie. We would go on hikes deep into the woods, and he would constantly run ahead and circle behind us, “herding” everyone, and ending up traveling probably ten times the distance.


He spent his first seven years roaming the woods and farmland in Illinois. We lived on a farm in Makanda, Illinois, across from a peach orchard, and during harvest season, Cody could be found entreating the migrant workers to a game of fetch all day long. He had the glorious opportunity in this lifetime to actually chase cows when they ventured into our yard a few times, and I will never forget him literally nipping at their heels and ducking their kicking hooves as they made their brisk retreat.

We moved to Oregon, and he became a city-dog, going for walks and playing fetch with a tennis ball in the parks. Thank goodness we found the “chuck-it” -- a tennis ball launcher that enabled us to throw the ball far enough to tire out Cody before he tired out our throwing arms. He also got to discover the ocean, and all the wondrous smells, and the endless expanses of beach for playing fetch. In the city, it was not unusual for people to spontaneously remark about what a handsome dog he was.

Cody loved people, thought children smelled wonderful, and loved kitties. If one of our kitties ever got irritated with him and gave him a swat, he would yipe and cower. Cody’s only challenge was leash-aggression towards other dogs, and I liked to say that you can take the dog out of Southern Illinois, but you can’t take the Southern Illinois out of the dog. Cody also maintained his belief to the end that skateboarding is indeed a crime. As he aged and lost so much of his hearing and sight, even these challenges subsided, and he only found evidence of other dogs through the smells along his much more peaceful and leisurely walks.


Cody has charmed many people in Illinois and Oregon. A special thanks to the wise and skillful veterinarians in his life: My dad, who always called him “Cody Good-Boy!” and Dr. Cydria Schaefer at Holistic Pet Vet, for easing him into his twilight years, with homeopathy and acupuncture, keeping him amazingly comfortable and mobile. Thank you to the staff of Sauvie Island Kennels, who were a devoted chapter of Cody’s fan club, and who were so accommodating and wonderful with him and with us.

Thank you all for knowing how special he was.

Since Cody had a bit of a health crisis about two years ago, we have been much more aware of the fact that every day was really just a gift. This is actually true for everybody. We are so grateful to our animal friends who keep our hearts wide open and remind us of the importance of enjoying this impermanent physical life and its games of fetch, belly rubs, and lying in the grass sniffing the breeze.

Cody
1993-2009