Hooter (his previous owner gave him that name) was my best friend, he always seemed to know what I was thinking; he was always there for me no matter what, a wonderful soul. He came to me from a co-worker who had to give him up along with two lovely cats (their story is for another time). We took to each other pretty fast, even though he was already about four years old. He was a shepherd lab mix, so he had the wolf features of the former, and the webbed feet of the later. He couldn’t walk past the smallest stream, pool, or puddle with out getting in and swimming around; but if a drop of rain hit his is fur he headed for the dry warmth of the house. Snow was a different story.

He loved to go for rides in the car except for those trips to the vet, he seemed to know when I was bringing him for a checkup and would nonchalantly walk the other way as if he had a previous engagement. He got along well with the other dogs in the neighborhood, he led the after dinner howl at the seven o’clock siren, and would get together with a buddy or two for Thursday night garbage raids.

He was very protective of his family, my late Mother always felt secure when alone in the house with Hooter standing guard. When my wife, Suzi moved in with her wonderful Himalayan Cat “Otto” they all hit it off right away. Hooter and Otto would take turns chasing each other around; Hooter had been around cats before, and Otto had no clue that this big thing was any threat to him.

Toward the end of the summer of 1999 he started slowing down. We initially thought he was just getting old, but after Suzi and I were married that September he started having seizures. We brought him to the Vet who told us that he didn’t have very long. I was faced with the option of putting him to sleep, which was not an option I wanted to entertain. In the following two weeks he actually seemed to improve, I even began to think he might be getting well. But deep down we all knew it was wishful thinking on my part. One night in October we woke to the sounds of Hooter having a violent seizure, we got dressed and started off for the all night animal hospital 20 miles away. About half way to the hospital he came out of the seizures long enough for me to hold him one last time before he died.

I knew even then that it was selfish of me to keep him around for those last weeks, but I just couldn’t bring my self to put him down. I do know that I never want to go through another night like that again. That was just over nine years ago, and because of insurance restrictions he was the last dog I can own while we live in this house. I miss him and will never forget him. We love our cats Otto and Twinkie, but we do hope one day to bring another dog or more into our lives.

Hugh from New York