Earlier today, it was tough to know where to turn when we had to face the reality of our injured Odie.

Odie was a rescue we received four years ago from our veterinarian friends. Odie was timid yet filled with vigor. He appeared to have been abused, and was easily frightened, yet would “dance” around the yard when we’d arrive home each day. Odie was very loving and gentle towards our kids, especially if they had a treat for him. He would sit at attention each morning at 7am, waiting for breakfast. Odie loved to pull fresh pears off the tree, and take walks with us in the woods. Often times our two cats would curl up and sleep next to Odie or rub against him. He was so grateful for any gentle human touch, never demanding, but looking up with those dark brown eyes said it all.

Odie was the lone dog on the street for a couple years until Zoe the rottie, moved in next door. He loved to hang out with her.

Last spring, Odie survived a double pit bull attack, as they intruded our yard. We nursed him back, and he took on new character for us, he was a “champ”. To endure that attack and carry on, he fulfilled that character. But Odie was just not the same. He was sluggish, not as alert as before. He seemed to miss that vibe he once had.

When Zoe’s owners called after lunch today, to say Odie was curled up and bleeding in Zoe’s house, we feared it could be bad. Odie apparently was struck by a vehicle, and sustained severe injuries to both hind legs, and other deep wounds on his belly. He could barely support his own weight on his hind legs. Soon we were faced with a painful decision regarding his life. And Odie clearly seemed to sense the inevitable. I put my hand on his back as we faced those final seconds, which seemed like an eternity. Odie turned his head from facing me, and took that last breath with courage. In that moment, is there a betrayal of their trust in us, or the ultimate expression of it? I do not know how Odie faced it. It still hurts like crazy for us.

Recently our little girl started calling him Odie Kubodie. And that’s how he’ll forever be known. His two sleeping spots will stay by the front stoop. His two walking paths around to the back of the house will grow over in a year’s time. Until then, we’ll think of him as we walk by and smile, or cry.

Thank you, Odie Kubodie, for allowing us these few short years. We’ll miss you buddy, and your bed’s will always be ready for you.

Thank you General Levin, for allowing us this space to pay a tribute for such a loyal companion.

Mark from GA