We lost Tracy's dog, Odin, in early January and I have been meaning to write this ever since. Tracy got Odin, a Husky mix (mostly Mix) from a grocery store. It used to be common to see people giving away puppies at stores, that's how we got our Lab, Garth, many years ago. But now people seem to think every mutt is worth 400 bucks and free puppies are as rare as pet lice. That's why it was so baffling that someone abandoned two puppies in a shopping cart at a Columbia Falls grocery store. Tracy's then girlfriend made it her mission to re-home dogs, so she got the Husky for Tracy. Trace named him Odin. For those who haven't studied Norse mythology or attended any of the "Thor" movies, Odin is Thor's father and king of the gods. Rather a presumptuous name for a small tan puppy, but it turned out to be appropriate because they both had a bad left eye. I don't know how the king of the gods got his owie, but one of our cats scratched Odin's eye when he was a puppy and, though he didn't lose his vision, his eye didn't have the reflective lens you see in animals eyes at night. Odin, the comic book character, wore a classy eye patch. Odin, the dog, just had a goofy eye. In a triple coincidence, Tracy also had a droopy left eye until we had it surgically corrected in his teens.
Odin was a frequent visitor in our home from the time Tracy got him until 2016 when they both became full time residents. Shortly before that time, Tracy got another dog, whom he named Baldr, another Norse god, not as well known because, in mythology, he is killed by his brother, Loki, before he could get a movie deal. Odin decided early on that the place to sleep in our house was under our bed. He slept under Reed's side, Baldr slept under mine. Baldr is now 95 lbs and has to work hard to wedge himself under our bed but dogs, like old men, are set in their ways.
Despite the annoyance of the extra hair and dust, which meant extra house cleaning until I learned how to hide or ignore it, we loved having the dogs around. I do not miss Odin barking uncontrollably any time someone came to our door (even those of us who lived there), or passed on the street in front of our house, or behind our back fence, or randomly; but it was also comforting to know no one could sneak into our house. Just going outside was an adventure for Odin and entertainment for me. He and Baldr would wrestle, stalk and chase each other several times a day. Odin was as excited about food as Baldr was indifferent. Somewhat surprising, because he ate too fast to taste it.
Sleeping. Playing. Eating. Un-eating. That about covers a dog's life. And we would have been happy to continue that way for many years, but around Christmas, we noticed a large growth hanging from Odin's neck. The first vet thought it was benign, but it rapidly progressed to swallowing and breathing problems. The after hours vet found cancer, one that usually responds well to treatment. But not for Odin. At one end, his neck was outstretched so he could take short gasps of air, at the other end, his tail wagged when we petted him. But I knew as I touched him that I was saying goodbye. The price of love is the pain of loss. We paid that price January 5th, and times like this, when I think of his death. But when I think of his life--that's joy plus interest.
Odin's resting place is in a pasture on our daughter's property overlooking the valley. His memorial stone is at our house, along with his collar which reads, "Odin King of the Dogs". Maybe our Odin was not king of the gods. But as King of the Dogs--he came pretty close.
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