“A dog doesn’t care if you’re rich or poor, educated or illiterate, clever or dull. Give him your heart and he will give you his.”
With heavy hearts, D and I said goodbye to our naughty, crazy, goofy, sweet, handsome pound puppy today.
What was done had to be done, but it makes letting go none the easier. Our regret is not being able to be with him on his last day.
Gunner came into our lives after being left unclaimed in the pound at about 8 weeks old. His first chapter will be forever a mystery, but he quickly began to make a new one with us. His early months were spent keeping D and Ruby on their toes at the farm in the RV. As he got older, he deemed himself ‘Protector of the Farm’, standing watch, particularly late at night, keeping invisible threats at bay.
We lost our first round of ducks to him, as well as a fair amount of chickens. He was astute at finding the tennis ball the humans kept trying to hide. He had an unfailing amount of drive. He lived for balls. And water. And if the two were mixed together? Doggy bliss. An affinity for chewing got him into some trouble over the years.
When his energy level was finally brought down to an acceptable house level (usually after having thrown the ball for him 3,573 times), he was always good for a good hangout session on the kitchen floor – belly rubs, snuggles, and lots of kisses. He enjoyed the Barnesville neighbor girls because they were always good for a ball throw or two. Days out on the farm, he rarely left your side.
He wasn’t perfect, and ultimately his faults got the best of him. But we won’t be holding it against him. He was our Marley. Through the good and the bad, he kept us laughing, taught us about patience and perseverance, how to love and forgive, gave us unwavering loyalty and companionship.
The house is much quieter now…
We love you and will never forget you, pound puppy.