During the night Kodiak’s body convulses, and the frantic shudder is enough to wake me out of a sound sleep. “Shh, shh,” I say as his body pitches against mine, as all the muscles of his neck tense, as his head crushes against my lips, filling my mouth with the scent of blood. “My Kodiak,” I say, crying. “I love you.” I don’t know if he’s heard me. I hold him in case he shudders again, but he goes still. I stroke his hair, hug him close. His body is cooling.
goodbye.
