Reader Friday-Goodbye To A Friend

I hope a little indulgence is in order on The Killzone today.

6/18/2014-1/14/2025 . . . Play hard, sweet Hoka

We lost a good friend on Tuesday, January 14th. Her name was Hoka, the smartest German shepherd in the universe. It happened quickly. The vet thinks it was a stroke. She would have been eleven in June, and we’d kept company with her for nine years and one month.

We’ve had other dogs, but none as human as Hoka.

A little history: She was rescued from the local shelter by our daughter, who was able to be her mom for three months. When she moved to San Diego, she couldn’t take Hoka with her. She was named after Jessica’s favorite running/hiking shoe, and was her companion on the trails.

Jessica brought her to us to get acquainted, and it was love at first sight. When she came to live with us she was about a year and a half old, give or take. It was like a toddler moving in with gramma and grampa.

Let the games begin!

She had two speeds . . . fast and stop. She liked to chase cars along our rural dirt road—from inside our fence line, of course. Our neighbor once clocked her at 32 mph.

She had a human vocabulary of about twenty or so words and phrases, she was scared of gunfire, loved harassing our neighbors’ cats and cows from across the fence, and was always ready to jump in the Jeep and go to town with us. And, believe it or not, she could tell time. She knew when it was bedtime, and she knew–at 7am every morning–it was time to trek over to the west side of our property to chase away any of the neighbor’s cats who dared stray over our fence.

We walk the orchards around us every day and she went with us. The last few days, I’ve even taken pictures of her paw prints around our property and out in the orchards.

And my Dad. We took her three times a week to see him, and he loved her as much as we do. Many of the other residents in his facility  insisted on petting her. She was everybody’s dog, and she knew it.

There’s not a square inch of our house and five acres that her paws did not touch. She watched out for us as much as we took care of her. Every part of our daily schedule–now ten days without her–included her.

First, we learned to navigate life with Hoka; now we must learn to steer ourselves without her.

It’s going to be a long journey before we can let her lie without tears, but I know she’s getting acquainted with the other three dogs we’ve buried.

Hoka, keep running. We’ll come and play with you some day.

 

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Thank you, TKZers, for listening to me and understanding why I had to write this post. Many of you have shared your pets with us, so I know you “get it”.

 

Your comments and memories are most welcome.