Dog's Age
Passed in 2013..

Your Dog's Story or Bio
Morgan,
From the day your sky-blue eyes skeptically locked with mine- me sitting on the floor after being ravaged by the mountain, you cautiously sniffing, then flopping those velvety soft ears into my lap, it was love at first sight. I often joked “you had me at hello” from that day forward about our first encounter. It was a special bond- you and I-unlike any I’d ever known. Climbing fourteeners, upsetting the downstairs neighbors, DP nights, “chase-skiing,” carpet shredding, poaching butter braids off the counter, frolicking in fields of wildflowers, hunting “wabbits,” and spending countless hours in the mountains exploring- oh, and we can’t forget our “thinkin’ spot!”
Whatever the world threw at us, good and bad, we tackled it together and we beat it BECAUSE we were together. It’s really difficult to articulate just HOW much you mean to me... but a friend shared with me the following words:
“In every relationship with a dog, there is a turning point where that dog becomes something more than just a companion, more than just a dog. At some point in every great relationship with a dog, there is a moment where they become, in whatever small way, a part of your soul. Where you are no longer just you. Where at least a part of you—however small—is defined simply by the fact that they were present in your life for some fixed period of time. This is the point where you are forced to say, “I would not be the person I am without them.” In return, the dog completely defines itself by its owner.”
That is as close as I can get to sharing it with the the world lil man.. You were as much a part of my soul, as I hope I was in yours. We made a deal from day one- and lived life boundlessly- with few regrets.
Then one ordinary day- the vet threw out the word “cancer.” I knew what it meant, you didn’t, but the look you shot at me showed me that you knew that together, we could handle it. We had the surgery, we had the shots, and you were back to your old self, bouncing out of bed each day, meeting me at the door with eyes eager for our next adventure. It was a miracle. My Morgan, was back.
Then a few weeks ago, something changed... You were tired, would rather lay in my lap than go chasing after it, and as time wore on, the disease returned, ravaging your poor little body, until you weren’t able to walk, much less run, without a significant effort. All the while, you looked at me w/those warm amber eyes, “Pop- I got this.. We can get through this together.”
Yesterday those beautiful eyes which I took in the warmth of, told a different story, they asked for help. They said you were tired. They asked me to uphold my end of the bargain. They reminded me that there was a price for all the good times.. for the countless “welcome homes” and “don’t sweat it Pop, we’ll get through this.”
Today, baby boy... as I carried you from the car into the vet’s office, trying to give you a “we’ve got this” look through my not so well hidden tears.. I tried to be strong. To give you the peace you have given me countless times before.
Morgan, my life wouldn’t be a fraction of what it is now without you in it. Though our adventures ended today- with you, goes a part of my soul. I had no right to expect what you gave me over the last 12 years- but am so very thankful that the fates saw to it that we would spend them together..
Rest in Peace my lil’ buddy- you’ll always be MY Captain.
I'll love you always- BC