Today we’re losing our old dog. After 16 or 17 years, we’re not sure which, our fuzzy Zen-master is moving on.
In her life, she’s peed in most of the rest areas between New Mexico and New York, twice; taught play to dogs who were afraid to play and those who were mean to appreciate a friend. She’s taken others on grand adventures under secret identities and made dog friends in new places before the dog owners knew us. She’s hiked in the Sangre de Christos and the Adirondacks and many places in between. She’s ridden in a canoe, fallen through the ice, fished and caught goldfish, perch and frogs. (I can still see her with little frog legs hanging out of her mouth.)
We think she’s famous in the dog world. How will they celebrate her passing?
Oh, the dog looking straight at you is the other dog. He’s more at my level of perfection.