Grief, Sorry and Loss

I can run like the wind. I am fast fast fast - faster than any of the other dogs at the dog park. They may be bigger than me, 85 lbs to my mere 17, but I have a very specific low-to-the-ground running style which took me a lifetime to develop. So, I am FAST.

I'm Cody, and I live with my human in a big house with an annoying cat named Maggie.

My human is wonderful, I am so glad I found her. She gives me delicious food and goes with me to the dog park. She doesn't run though. I don't know why she doesn't. How boring.

Sometimes, I can tell she is sad. I don't really know why. I lick the tears from her face though and that seems to help.

I wish I could talk specifics with her but I can't - although I do sometimes understand her words, still our communication is limited. She cries over something called sorrow and loss. I don't really know what those things are, but they must be really bad. Sometimes she calls it grief.

Grief, sorrow and loss, appear to be very deep bad things, and I'll admit, I'm not a very deep thinker. I mostly find that running really really fast helps when I'm sad - I wish she would try that.

I may not know about grief and sorrow, but I think I've got a handle on this loss thing. Sometimes I lose my stuffed chicken, and that does make me sad. I have always found it though. One time it was behind the tv, and another time it was under the couch. Why doesn't she just look for what she lost? Maybe it's in the backyard?

Maybe grief and sorrow are just some bad things she ate. You know, I just thought of that. Sometimes I need to just puke up a pile of really vile disgusting stuff and then I feel better. She should do that.

Whatever grief and sorrow and loss are, I sure hope she feels happier soon.

It may take quite a few more trips to the dog park.