In Loving Memory

Last Monday my dog temporarily lost his vision so we rushed him to the vet hospital emergency room. After three nights the doctors diagnosed him with terminal cancer and predicted a life expectancy of a few weeks to months.

On Thursday he came home from the hospital a different dog. Before he would swallow whole any human food I gave him, and sometimes the hand holding it; now he refused even the finest ground beef bought specially for him. Before he could take marathon length walks; now he could barely drag himself to the bushes by the front door. Worst of all, his tail, which previously could have been harnessed as an alternative energy source to power China, now hung straight down between his legs.

He passed away today and my family is sad for the loss. We're also grateful that he was in our lives. In the bargain made eons ago between our two species, I got a good deal with this one. My family and I loved him and cared for him, but he gave at least as good as he got. For example, he somehow always knew instinctively if someone was sick, or even if my mother had a headache, and would shower them with extra affection.

He also taught us how to measure happiness in doggy units. That is, a walk makes you happy. A treat makes you happy. Seeing your family makes you very happy. Sun or snow makes you happy. Chasing a wild turkey, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, car rides, and chest deep snow makes you ecstatic. Baths make you sad. Drying off after a bath makes you happy.

A guard dog he was not; he just assumed everyone was good. Deliverymen to our house didn’t just leave packages. They rang the door bell and waited for their visit with the dog and his 100-horsepower tail. Sometimes the dry cleaner stops by twice in the same week, I think just to say hi.

I’ll always remember how joyfully he would gallop across a field of wild flowers for no reason except to run. We may have given him love, food, and care, but he gave us back an unconditional love and taught us that it’s the small things that are best to enjoy.

In loving memory of my Buddy, February 14, 1996 - August 17, 2008.