Today was the last day of Kobe’s life. Kobe was my dog. One of eight that I’ve had in my life. He was a beautiful yellow lab with a heart of gold, and he lived nearly sixteen years. He’s gone, and my heart is heavy with his loss.
Longer-time readers may recall that I adopted Kobe a couple of summers ago, and I wrote a post about him called In Praise of Older Dogs. (The post is worth checking out, if only to see a thirteen-year old dog tromp around in my fish pond or swim with my kids).
As the post relates, Kobe’s original owners, having had him for thirteen years, decided he’d lived long enough, so they brought him to the vet to be put to sleep. The vet wouldn’t hear of it, and he handed the dog over to the Northern California Lab Rescue, which posted his pictures on Facebook. Not many people want an elderly dog, but we didn’t mind. So he had a new home. I figured we could give him an extra month or two of a happy life.
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