Thank You, Bird Dog

We got you as a $25 mutt. From the first day you were a rabbit catching, quail eating hellion. Never was a day boring with you around.

You'd wake me up at 0500. Every. Damn. Day. To go out and play. If I took too long making breakfast, you'd drag me by the pant leg to the front door.

You enjoyed archery. Mainly fetching the arrow of a botched shot.

You enjoyed shooting. Mainly retrieving the remnants of skeet.

You enjoyed playing. And you sure as hell let us know. You didn't care if it was bed time or a stressful day. I'll always remember your "let's play" whine, as annoying as it was.

I hope one day a beautiful lady looks at me like you would look at tennis balls.

You enjoyed long walks on the beach. And digging your holes.

I took you around the world, in heart.

But you would always be waiting for me at home, jumping onto the bed in my old room when I could stop by.

You'd never let my bed be made. It was your favorite spot to curl up and sleep.

You were the best. I'm sorry that someone was careless enough to hit you while driving down our road. It was an unfortunate event to happen on Christmas Eve. I'm sorry I couldn't be there to say bye. I'm sorry you died so young. But Chloe, Bird Dog, I hope there is an infinite amount of quail for you to chase and eat up in heaven. You were the definition of good dog, I'd risk even saying the best. Christmas is a time of happiness and thanks. So I'm gunna thank you for always bringing a smile to my face when you were around. (I'm sorry for the selfie, but it's already Christmas 'round these parts, and I've heard this is the day they're begrudgingly allowed.)