When I first found Bear he was three months old and no body had chosen to take him home from the Oakland pound because they thought he had pit bull in him. Boy, was that a mistake. We named him Bear because as a puppy, when you rubbed his tummy, he would make sounds like a baby grizzly. He turned out to be an extremely hansom ninety pound shepherd lab mix with the disposition of the sweetest American mutt you could ever meet in your life. He loved us and we loved him for thirteen years.

I can’t remember a Christmas that he didn’t find his present under the tree first and when Bear was neurotic at times and suffered from separation anxiety as he got older. He loved to play tug of war, tormented our cat for fun and so loved his walks and cookies.

For you dog lovers, you know that thirteen is a long and happy life for a large breed.
When he decided it was time to go yesterday morning, he came to my bedside in distress and told me that he was ready.

He made it to the emergency veterinarian in time to be provided with some relief, we said goodbye and stayed with him until his great and loving heart stopped beating.

He was my best friend and the first dog I owned and raised as an adult. I will never forget him or the love he brought to my family and me.

“Dog’s are lucky, they get to see, love and touch their God every day”

I don’t know where I heard that, but Bear greeted us after work every day with an exuberation and true love that most humans can never aspire to.

I’ll miss you buddy.

– Tom from Concord, CA