Dear Duck,


For 14 years, you were the best dog ever designed by committee. We used to joke that you were proof that God has not only a sense of humor but a stockpile of spare parts. You were my heart. You were the first dog I ever raised from a puppy and on a semi, besides. You ate computer cords, air ride seats, water bottles, every hardbound book I ever brought onto the truck and the insides of paper towel rolls. We let you live anyway. When you were little, your ears dragged when you ran and you made us laugh. When you got into your teen years, your favorite trick was flushing birds out of the butterfly bush and catching them in midair. Then, as an adult, retrieving ANYTHING that was thrown. Your favorite? Tennis balls thrown into the bay in Monterey. I cannot count the number of baths I gave you out of a gallon bottle of water in the middle of a truck stop! You got off the truck when my son-in-law was deployed so that you could go and guard the family – and you did. No one got past you to those kiddoes. My son-in-law came home and you retired to a life of ease in Texas, which is where all good dogs should live. You lived through an attack by a bulldog, being loved by 5 babies, the annual fight between you and our boxer–who always thought she should be alpha (she never won)–but old age just finally got you. I love you. I miss you. I will see you again.

Breed: Catahoula/Sharpei cross


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