He was gregarious, strong willed, wily, gentle, inquisitive, loyal, a free spirit. He was the type who was always more interested in other people than other dogs. He was a charmer. He was messy, loud, always
hungry, totally unaware of his size and strength. He left his mark on
the floors, the walls, and nearly everyone he met. He was unlike any
dog I’ve ever known. He was my buddy.
Roamer died peacefully yesterday with his family at his side.
Things are very quiet around here today. The absence of his unmistakable bay and his heavy footsteps are deafening. I miss him
so much. He was nine years old – an old man by bloodhound standards.
But it will always be too young for me. I still expect to look out the bedroom window and see him roaming around, nose to the ground, arced tail in the air, oblivious to the world until some sound sends him running spindly-legged towards the house.
In addition to his heartbroken parents, he leaves three sisters, a brother, and countless memories. I will never forget the scrawny young hound that left me little choice which dog to adopt when he jumped up, placed a paw on each shoulder, and ran his tongue all over my face. The way he would shake from his head, flinging drool every which way, all
the way to the tip of his tail. The John Kerry bus trip to Phoenix where Roamer was doted upon by Teresa Heinz Kerry, Antonio
Villaraigosa, and countless grassroots volunteers. All the laundry he
consumed and bathrooms he ransacked over the years. The trip to dog
beach where he was equal parts lifeguard and harbor seal. His newfound
love for avocados. The look in his eyes during those last moments.
There is nothing I wouldn’t give to have another day or even a few more
minutes with Roamer. To be able to scratch his nose, rub his paws, massage those ears – all those little signs of affection telling him
how much he meant to me. I realize he was just a dog, but he was also the friend who never let me down, who was always there for me. I hope I was as good to him.
This little tribute is hardly fitting for a dog whose memory I will carry for the rest of my life. I have no doubt that I will be recounting his exploits when I’m an old hound dog myself. In that sense, he lives on in me and all those whose lives he touched. A bit of
solace for this grieving heart.
So long Roamer – I’m gonna miss you buddy!
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