Blaze was nearly fourteen when she had to be put to rest. We had adopted her from the local Humane Society when she was a puppy, so she basically grew up with our kids. A lot of people commented over the years that we “really got lucky with that dog,” but I’d like to think that much of her good behavior and temperament could be attributed to the nice environment that she lived in. She was truly part of the family.
After living so long under our roof, her absence creates a tremendous void. I still wake up daily with the thought of our habitual morning meal and long walk. I often search for her to let her outside, and still carefully place food in secure positions outside of her eager range. When I enter the house, I expect her loving greeting, complete with a wagging, fluffy tail.
My wife Helen gave me a slightly-delayed birthday present this year. As I opened the package, she eagerly awaited my reaction. I saw the gift, and didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. It was a portrait of Blaze, Photoshopped in a football jersey. Blaze wore a sullen expression and her hair was slightly unkempt, which seemed in line with how many football players posed for team photos. Helen explained that the portrait represented two things that I love, Blaze and football.
There never was a better dog.