Squire was the first dog that we had the joy of raising together from a pup. He and his littermates lost their mother shortly after their birth, and were lovingly hand-reared by the dam's owner and a wonderful dog, "Uncle Isaac," who taught them "doggy ways." Of indeterminate parentage, we always felt that Squire was at least partly Golden Retriever, with Lab, Flat-Coated Retriever, and perhaps even some Newfoundland thrown into the mix. In his prime, he tipped the scales at 120 pounds, and, as the photo shows, was solid black except for a white blaze on his chest. Looking into his eyes, we were always awed by the gentleness, trust and wisdom they revealed.
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Though much loved by both of us, Squire was particularly special to Dave, who had never experienced the deep bonding that occurs between a man and a special dog. Squire worshipped Dave and lived for words of praise from him. Though he never received formal obedience training, he was always a perfect gentleman who loved to greet visitors, usually with an old sock or favorite toy hanging from his mouth, tail waving gently back and forth. |
| Like his own "Uncle Isaac" (whom we always suspected was really his dad), Squire was a fine "mentor" to the other dogs who joined his family "pack." He cheerfully endured Shadow and Smokey's puppy mischief, and taught them a few tricks along the way, like the joys of stealing a full pan of brownies from the kitchen counter, and the wide repertoire of looks that just might get a dog tidbits from the table at mealtime. Even in his last months, he always bore their attentions patiently and could usually be enticed into games of tag or tug-o'-war with Smokey. |  |
Sadly, by the Spring of 1994, we were forced to acknowledge that Squire's aging body was no longer able to keep pace with his strong and vibrant spirit -- that, in fact, he was in pain and suffering. Making the decision to help him to the Rainbow Bridge was an agonizing process for both of us. But to have watched him lose the dignity and joy of living that had always been so much a part of him would have been far worse. And so we said goodbye with our arms around him as he slipped quietly into his new life, which we'll all share with him in time. On the following page is our tribute, together with links to a few of the many excellent pet loss and grief support resources online.
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Text and photos on these pages copyright © 1997-1998, Cheryl P. Vetter. All rights reserved.
"Rainbow Connection"
