This I Believe

Brad - Monrovia, California
Entered on November 26, 2006
Age Group: 18 - 30

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!