This man's best friend

I got him for Rachel. In a not-too-subtle ploy to encourage her to spend more time with her Dad, I thought a dog which she wanted but couldn't have at her Mom's, was just the ticket. I liked the idea of having an animal in the yard to keep the bad guys away but with plans for a baby in the works and a simultaneous change in careers, a close companion was not what I was looking for. I got it anyway.

We checked out the local SPCA but didn't see the dog we were looking for. I don't remember what our criteria were, probably just "We'll know him when we see him", so we went to another SPCA farther away and strolled the cages. At the end of the row, and just as we were thinking maybe another hamster would do, we saw Shylo. He sat quietly with an imploring stare as if he knew he had an opportunity to sell himself to me. Unlike the other dogs, he was self-composed and patient. As I knelt before his kennel, he came forward , sat again and held his paw to shake my hand. I accepted the handshake and he's been with us ever since. That is, until we left him in someone else's care as we took this year to travel.

There were times when I wanted to kill him. Tearing through my vegetable garden, digging huge holes in my back yard and barking at all hours were challenges we dealt with. A fence 'round the veggies, burying his own feces in his new craters and a spray bottle cured all the above and with bad behaviours in remission, he was a fun, stick-chasing companion. We used to take him to the park and let him run with the other dogs which he loved but he would often pop his head up to make sure he knew where we were, before running off again.

As our lives got busier and Rachel's health deteriorated, we had less time for him and he spent most of his days patrolling our backyard. He spent the majority of his time outdoors in the mild Vancouver weather, coming indoors only in the coldest of weather or when the Hallowe'en fireworks scared him. Then he would curl up on the blanket he had under the stairs or, in his bolder moments, wait 'til we'd gone to bed and sneak upstairs to curl up on the living room rug. When he'd hear us getting up in the morning, he'd sneak back downstairs leaving his telltale fur behind.

In the last few years, his health also deteriorated and arthritis settled into his hips. Stairs became a challenge and I got in the habit of putting some ibuprofen in his food and that helped. The SPCA wasn't really sure how old he was when we got him but estimated about two years; I think he was probably older. He had a good nine years with us and it was plain when we left Vancouver that there was a good chance we wouldn't be seeing him again. But I was still surprised and saddened when Deb told me he'd passed away on December 23rd. He was a good companion of unquestioning loyalty who loved nothing more than to sit on my feet as I read and I was looking forward to seeing him when we returned to Vancouver. I often imagined the first moment when after more than a year away, I would come to the gate and my dog would recognize me and come tearing over to greet me with ecstatic energy. One more connection to the past severed and another piece of the quilt of my life sewn into place.

Miss you, Shylo. Thank you for all the fun and connection and companionship you brought me. I hope if there's an afterlife for dogs that you're up there with Rae and she's throwing sticks for you. Give her a lick for me.