Kore (Girl) XXXX-2025
The vet called earlier to report on your passing. Two weeks of care were not enough to undo the damage of disease and old age. When I last saw you on Thursday, I knew we would not meet again. You could barely move your paws.
Nothing is permanent in our life. We cannot affect the greater magnitudes and are powerless to either hold on to anything or take it with us. Whatever little control we have, we may use it in the service of a lofty cause such as to develop a bond between our species; an enduring friendship built on mutual trust and respect.
Experience is a series of moments. We let the details fade away as we cherish the impression of the little things that we hold dear. I thus remember you from a few weeks ago, when you finally decided to find shelter in my hut. You learnt from Atlas how to knock on the door and did it in the early morning hours of one of January’s heavy storms. Despite the noise caused by the rain, I heard you or, perhaps, I somehow felt your plea, and opened the door. You wagged your tail and ran in exuberantly, as you quickly found your way to a corner that you made your own. I was happy that you were comfortable, though I could tell that something had changed. This was not normal. You must have been aware that our time together was running out.
Many humans think they are the only ones who possess language and are thus entitled to some special treatment by the heavens. It is because they do not know any better. Those of us who commit hours each day to our beloved animals know that you possess language in all of its manifestations, verbal and non-verbal, and that we humans can accurately communicate with you. It is what you and I always did.
You were cautious not to come indoors, opting instead to sleep somewhere close to my habitat. These past few months, I would frequently find you sunbathing on the grass in front of my room or sleeping under the solar panels. Whenever I would go out with Atlas and Raizou, you would follow us for a little while even though you did not have the stamina to keep up with us. Still, you were there showing your friendship.
I first met you seven years ago. It was a sunny February morning. You appeared at the village without a collar and had no chip on you. This is a common phenomenon in the mountains, as hunters abandon their dogs on the premise that they are not suitable for hunting. You were no hunting dog though. Those are typically afraid of people. They have no chance of survival because they have been subject to such neglect and abuse that they do not trust humans, including those who, like me, would like to offer their help. You must have been some nice person’s pet. Perhaps they suffered a misfortune and you were then forced to leave your home. Nobody knew your name, so they ended up calling you “Kore” (Κόρη), the Greek word for “girl” or “daughter”.
That was seven years ago and two relocations away from where I currently am. At the time, I did not have the means to take care of you. The neighbours were providing you with food and you found shelter in an abandoned house nearby. We quickly became friends, as you would see me multiple times a day hiking together with Atlas.
When I left that village in desperate search for another room, I did not expect you to follow in my footsteps. A few days after I had moved to the nearby village, I found you roaming around my new place at the time. The dynamic of our relationship was the same: we would go for walks together, you following in our footsteps at a distance, while you would retain your freedom throughout the day as a stray animal that was still taken care of by the entire neighbourhood. It was then no longer a surprise when you followed me once again, this time to the hut where you lived peacefully for the last year and a half.
As the full moon rises from the east, I hold dear the memory of your friendship. Thank you!