R.I.P. Shelby

Shelby was a good dog. He was kind of hyper as a young dog and eccentric as an old dog, but he was good. He wasn't patient unless you count how he'd beg for scraps — or how he'd lie down and rest all day next to you when you were feeling puny. He wasn't smart unless you count that time he dug a whole big bar of dark chocolate out of a bag on the floor and hid it behind dad's computer to snack on when he felt like it (thank goodness I busted him before he managed to eat more than a sliver of it). He was loyal except that if he ever got loose he'd really make a break for it and you had to catch him fast. He always cleaned up if you dropped food you were cooking on the floor unless it was onion or celery or some other vegetable. He was a good dog.

Shelby had a stroke yesterday, and that was pretty much it for him. The vet put him down and Doug and mom were there. He'd been having fits, and apparently he'd had some weird, sad behaviors the weeks and months before he died, so this was something of a blessing, especially with Mom and Dad planning to go out of town today (postponed a little). He didn't die alone, it wasn't painful, he lived a very long life (over 100 in dog years). And now he has gone to the Happy Hunting Grounds.

I'll miss that little booger.