I remember the first time I saw him. I wasn't looking for a dog. I'd gone over to a friend's house for a meeting, when I saw him. He was the last of the litter, the runt no one wanted. I picked him up and he snuggled on my chest and it was all she wrote. From the very beginning he as the best damn dog, quick to learn, easy to train and spoiled rotten.
I would put him on my lap while I sat on the sofa and my husband would say. "you know he's gonna weigh 75 pounds one day and he'll want to do that." and he did. His favorite place was in the recliner with Rick or Patrick.
He would never beg at the table, but lay patiently at the edge of the dining room while we ate. Let that first chair scrape back and he'd be on his feet, ready for his share. The boys loved to trick him by scraping their chairs on the floor.
He loved potato peelings. Whenever I boiled potatoes, he'd be by my side while I peeled them. Waiting for his treat.
I could open any package in the kitchen. But he knew what the grated cheese package looked like without me even opening it. He knew I'd put a pinch of cheese in his food everytime I made my salad for lunch, his treat for being a good dog all day while I worked.
Speaking of treats, every night, at 8 p.m., he go to Rick and sit patiently at his knees, eyeing the treat jar that sat on his end table. He'd look at Rick, then the jar, then Rick and then the jar. Once Rick opened the jar, Kota would wait patiently while Rick would lay a treat on one knee and then one on the other. He'd patiently do a trick and then get his treat. While he ate one, I'd sometimes reach over and grab the other. He'd always look up like "where'd it go, I know it was there, Where is it?" and then come sniffing to find it. or he'd do still another trick and earn his treat.
Patrick taught him to shake hands, and switch by saying, "no the other one". Patrick also taught him to "high five" which was actually paw to hand high five.
In the morning before I went to work I'd let him out the back door and tell him to be a good dog. He'd run to the front and bark at me while I walked to the car, telling me to have a good day too. At night, he'd usually be waiting in that same spot. When he'd see me pull up, he'd run the length of the fence and back. Almost to make sure the coast was clear for me to come home.
He was such a protector. He'd put himself between me and the world. I never realized this til Rick pointed it out to me. He'd stay between me and the door in the house, between me and the fence when I was out in the yard. He always let people walking by that this was his place, don't come near. Even tho I don't think he'd hurt anyone, unless of course he thought they were actually threatening me. Just ask Patrick, he could never raise his voice to me when Kota was around. Kota would bark and bark, telling him that Momma was boss.
On Saturdays, he knew the alarm hadn't gone off and that meant he could jump on the bed and snuggle with us. He knew on weekdays we didn't have time for that, but he knew once dad was up he could get up on the bed with me. Unless of course we were going to bed, if I got in bed first he knew he'd be in trouble if Daddy came out of the bathroom and he was on the bed, he was in trouble. I'd try to coax him up there, but he'd never come up, just on Saturday mornings.
We evacuated from hurricanes together, him and I. In 2005 when we evacuated alot, he knew what momma packing the car meant. For the longest time he thought every time I packed the suitcase, he should go too. But that was not always the case. I traveled alot and left him at home to protect the guys.
Our list of memories goes on and on, and I want to keep writing them to never forget. I won't forget. He was such a damn good dog.
