The Shadow Who Follows Me
Kodi follows me everywhere. If I get up to grab a glass of water, he’s right there. If I walk outside for a minute, he’s at the door waiting. Even if I go to the bathroom, I can hear him get up and follow, because heaven forbid I go anywhere without him.
We adopted Kodi when he was six months old from a rescue in California. I saw his picture online — this beautiful standard poodle with the sweetest face — and that was it. We knew he was the one. A few weeks later, he flew across the country to join our family, and from the moment he arrived, he’s been part of us.
He’s always been patient, kind, and loyal in the quietest way. He has this deep bark that makes him sound tough, but really, he’s cautious when people come into the house. He watches, he waits, he decides if he trusts you.
But outside, he’s full of life. We live on the water, and his favorite thing is when dolphins swim by. He runs up and down the seawall barking at them, and they actually seem to respond, swimming back and forth as if they’re playing his game. It drives me crazy because the whole canal can hear him, but I have to admit — it’s pretty amazing to watch.
And when he’s not chasing dolphins, he’s on lizard patrol. He’ll spend hours darting around the yard, hunting every little movement in the grass. The concentration is intense — nose down, tail wagging, pure joy in motion.
Thirteen years later, he still does it — a little slower now, but with the same excitement.
When Everything Changes
Lately, though, we’ve noticed changes. He’s been losing weight, sleeping more, and I think deep down, we knew something wasn’t right. When our vet came to the house, she did an ultrasound and gently told us what no pet owner ever wants to hear: Kodi has liver cancer. There’s no cure. We’ll manage his comfort and make sure he knows how loved he is.
It’s a sentence that’s hard to even say out loud.
The truth is, when you bring a pet into your life, you know this day will come eventually — but you never really believe it. You focus on the joy, the companionship, the little routines that make up life together. You forget that time is moving, that this creature who has loved you through every high and low won’t be here forever.
Kodi has been through it all with us. He’s been part of every season — the noise, the chaos, the laughter, he’s watched our kids grow up, he’s sat under the kitchen table waiting for dropped crumbs, he’s comforted us when we’ve cried and wagged his tail when we’ve celebrated. He’s woven into every piece of our family story.
And I think that’s the thing about pets: they become part of the rhythm of your life. You feel their presence in everything, and it’s hard to imagine life without it.
The Lessons They Leave Us
Kodi has taught me more about kindness and compassion than most people ever could. He’s patient with everyone — kids, other dogs, even the occasional stranger. He doesn’t rush to judge. He waits, he observes, he loves anyway. There’s something deeply human about that, or maybe something we humans could stand to learn.
He’s also taught me about loyalty — not the dramatic, movie-style loyalty, but the quiet, steady kind. The kind that means being there, every single day, no matter what. That’s what love looks like when it’s uncomplicated.
Every morning, he waits by my feet while I drink my coffee. Every night, he curls up at the foot of our bed. When I move, he moves. When I sit, he sits. He’s not looking for attention or reward; he just wants to be near. There’s a lesson in that kind of presence — in the way he reminds me that love doesn’t have to be loud to be powerful.
I’ve always believed our pets find us for a reason. They come into our lives when we need them most, even if we don’t realize it at the time. Maybe Kodi came to teach me patience. Maybe he came to teach me how to slow down and pay attention. Or maybe he came to prove that everyday love — the kind that greets you at the door and follows you everywhere — is what matters most.
The Gift of Love That Stays
Since his diagnosis, I’ve been watching him more closely. I notice the little things now — the way he lifts his head when he hears my footsteps, or how he still perks up when the dolphins appear. Even on the hard days, he greets the world with curiosity and calm. It’s humbling to watch.
I think about how much animals give us without ever asking for anything in return. They don’t care what kind of day we’ve had, whether we’ve met our goals, or if we’re feeling confident or not. They just want to be near us. To love us. To be part of our lives.
That kind of love is simple. It’s pure. And it changes you.
Over the years, Kodi has shown our family what it means to care for something wholeheartedly. Our kids have learned responsibility through feeding him, empathy through comforting him, and compassion through this hard season we’re in now. He’s taught all of us that love isn’t just about the fun parts — it’s about showing up even when it’s difficult.
I know the day will come when the house feels quieter. When I’ll catch myself listening for those familiar footsteps that aren’t there. And as painful as that will be, I also know that every memory we’ve shared will stay with us: every walk, every wag, every moment by the water.
Because the thing about pets is that their love doesn’t leave when they do. It lingers, it fills the spaces they once occupied. It softens the sharp edges of life. And it reminds us of what really matters—being kind, being loyal, and being present.
When people say, “It’s just a dog,” I always shake my head. There’s no just about it. If you’ve ever loved an animal, you know exactly what I mean. They’re part of the family — not because we treat them that way, but because they are.
Kodi may not have years left, but he has today. He has a family that adores him, a seawall full of dolphins to bark at, and a house where he’ll always be loved. And for now, that’s enough.
I know there will come a time when I’ll have to make the hardest decision — to say goodbye. But that’s not today. Today, he’s still barking at dolphins and chasing lizards, still greeting the world with curiosity and joy. When those things stop, I’ll know it’s time. Until then, I’ll keep soaking up every wag, every nudge, every quiet moment beside him.
If you have a pet, give them an extra hug tonight. Let them know how much they matter. Because one day you’ll look back and realize that in caring for them, they were quietly teaching you how to be a better human.
That’s what Kodi has done for me. And that’s what every pet does — they remind us how to love without conditions, how to show up with our whole hearts, and how to appreciate the simple, beautiful moments that make up a life.
Because they’re not just pets. They’re family.
