Ode To Bodhi
A eulogy for my dog
Bodhi Zapha Blondie Capone
Born July 9, 2018-Died November 4, 2022
“It is better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all.” — Alfred Lord Tennyson
Dear Bodhi,
We rescued you when you were 6 months old because we wanted to save you.
Save you from a short, sad life at a shelter. Save you from a torturous life you would have had if you stayed “down south.” Save you from the pain of being alone after your mother and all of your siblings died from parvo.
Your name was Camo when we adopted you, but we changed it to Bodhi after the Patrick Swayze character in Point Break. It was fitting as you were blonde, always searching for the ultimate ride, and 100% pure adrenaline.
You were handed to me wrapped in a towel at the rescue center. You looked at me with those puppy dog eyes and that was it. I was convinced you were the dog for us.
You were happiest around your two girls, especially during our 3 weeks in Maine. Your fear and nervousness seemed to wash away while we were there. As the slogan says, it’s the way life should be and you agreed.
I hope you know, Bodhi, that our 11-year-old bounces a tennis ball while walking around the house, occasionally shooting me a look, “this is what you get for taking my dog away.” She knows it was the right thing to do, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less. You were her dog more than anyone’s.
I stayed with you while the vet gave you two shots. First, anesthesia to calm you. After a few minutes, you lay down at my feet forgoing the blanket the nurse put next to you. Your last act of defiance.
I rubbed your head and told you how much I’d miss you as the second shot stopped your heart. You will live in ours forever.
I wish you had longer with us, Bode. I wish I wasn’t so tough on you. I wish I was more patient with you. Because now I miss you. I learned a valuable lesson. Focus on the good. In pets, in people, and in life.
My six-year-old asked me the night that you died when you were coming back. I said, “he’s not coming back.” One last nod to your namesake and to a life that you lived on your terms.
When I told a friend that you were gone, he said that’s “a special kind of heartache.” The best way to describe what my family is feeling.
You were complicated, loyal, sweet, and protective.
More than anything, you loved us unconditionally. And we loved you right back.
Love, Gabe, Kate, and your girls
