Cora was my parents' dog that they got in the summer of 1998, a few weeks before I left for college. She was from a shelter and not only had she been abused, but she'd been hit by a car. The incredibly generous people at the shelter gave her a new hip and my parents gave her a new home and a new lease on life. She thanked them for 14 years by barking at strangers (especially men, tall men, men with dark hair, men with facial hair and Aaron. And also anyone who range the doorbell.) and pooping in the house (mostly to punish them for going on vacation). She never fully grasped the concept of playing fetch, and generally refused to catch anything until after the first bounce. Despite these and numerous other
Relations between Cora and I were friendly but terse. After a long hike with Cora and my Mom during which Cora would not walk in front of me, I realized that I had been assigned the role of alpha dog. I soon began referring to my mom as the "epsilon dog". After another hike, now several years ago, she couldn't walk the next day. It was then that we realized she was getting old. More recently, her face and front legs got grayer and whiter. Last year, her kidneys began to fail and she began to need pain medication 3 times a day. Apparently, she preferred her pills embedded in kielbasa. "She's a Polish dog", my mom said.
I was fortunate to travel home twice in the last two months and have the opportunity to make her sit and shake one last time, by hand signals only because she had gone deaf as well. So as you can see -- it's okay, she was old. She had a good run.
Cora, age 14, still smiling.
Getting some some sun, or as we would say, "uh, the dog died."
Napping in a hole she dug by the side of the house in my mom's plants.
