The Big Grownup and I spent a lot of time on our own in the days and weeks following the loss of our beloved Cody. Even when we were home at the same time, we tried to stay alone, in our own space, in order to deal with our grief in our own way. We put up a brave front when we were in the same place at the same time, but deep down inside both of us were doing our best to cover up the hurt we were afraid to let the other know we were feeling. We had a difficult time trying to figure out the best way to hide our grief from one another, both of us wanting to keep our tears private so as not to upset the other. We weren’t fooling anyone, most especially ourselves during this whole period in our lives, since our outside faces reflected quite clearly our inside feelings, leaving nothing to the imagination. Still, we kept up appearances and general conversations with each other, careful not to stir up any sad feelings.

And then one night, the Big Grownup busy rummaging around in the kitchen while I was sitting mesmerized in front of the television set watching another rerun of my favorite “CSI” show yet again, he called out to me, told me that he knew her name. Confused about what he was saying, I simply asked, “What?” and he replied “Her name is Crocket”. I knew right away what he was talking about, filled in the words he had purposely left out of our little conversation, but I couldn’t bring myself to say more out loud. We let her name hang between us in midair, let the word settle down on its own and slowly sink into that space reserved for “never again”. I remember holding my breath, thinking that I must be mistaken by what I thought I heard the Big Grownup say, that surely it was too soon for us to even think about the possibilities we might face if we ever stopped hurting long enough to begin to entertain the off-chance idea of inviting another dog into our lives.

Nothing more was said for a few days, neither of us brave enough to admit what we heard the other say, afraid to think what we felt for Cody could be changed by the addition of another four-footed canine. A week or so later, our dinner finished and the dishes safely placed in the dishwasher, the Big Grownup asked me if I would “Google” something for him, check out information for him online. Cursor in position, he said to type in “Tennessee Plott Hound”. I knew what direction this conversation was taking, couldn’t help myself as I clicked my way across the internet to gather the material he was looking for. First up on my monitor screen was a website titled “White Deer Preserve”; and after some navigation we found what we were looking for: brand new litters of puppies born and raised in Texas, many of them the spitting image (give or take a few details) of our wonderful Cody. Clicking on the tabs, we found ourselves “ooh-ing” and “ah-ing” together over each and every puppy presented on the site. Together we checked out their fur and their snouts and their padded feet, finding something to like about each and every picture we looked at. But something special had to be there for me to decide that this was what we should be thinking about, that it was the right time to take another chance to fall in love with a brindled bundle of fur.

And then it appeared; the sign I needed to entertain the future, know that what we were doing was right: a new litter had just been whelped and the date February 29, 2008 jumped off the screen, grabbed my attention. Two little girl puppies were still unspoken for, were waiting for a good home. Clicking on the pictures, our hearts were tugged by the sweetest puppies we had ever seen. That they were both girls, both brindled like Cody, with a white splotch on their chest like his, born on a day that only comes around once every four years—everything seemed to fall into place. By the end of the evening, the Big Grownup and I found our hearts were locked in agreement; a girl it would be, and we would call her Crocket, and we would reach down into our hearts and offer her our home and our love times two.

Dr. Joe, Crocket’s breeder, must have thought us “Northerners” were crazy when we called him long distance, explained who we were and asked to buy one of his little puppies, gave him all the reasons we could think of why we wanted to bring a little southern puppy born on Leap Year Day all the way here to our home in Massachusetts to spend the rest of her life with us. But after a few back-and-forth conversations, he realized that the Big Grownup and I needed that little brindled bundle of fur as much as she needed us, and so the deal between us was set. Each day that she is with us, the reason we need her becomes clearer and clearer; she is helping to ease some of the sadness we feel every day as we continue to miss Cody. Clever girl. She hasn’t taken Cody’s place; rather, she is making the hole in our hearts even bigger, so she can fit inside. I can’t wait to see what else she has in store for us up her brindled sleeve. Time will tell.

Stay tuned.

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My Backyard News is proud to announce Cody Book One!

Now get the early editions of the Cody Column in one very entertaining book.

Whether you are raising your first dog or you are of an age where you "never again" dog is a cherished memory, these conversations with Cody will make you laugh and cry and you will find yourself reading them out loud to those you love.

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