Well, here we go trying to get closure again -- loss of another part of our heart.

How do you give tribute to a dog that's just a dog?  Nothing "special" to those that spend great sums trying to (and succeeding) make their dog significant in some way -- No BIS wins, no obedience titles -- just a dog.  HOWEVER, he was special, of course, to use simply because we loved him.  He gave us joy each day.  Magic was a dog that never had a bad day in his life.

Never a "cross word" (if dogs have words) -- an attitude combination between Alfred E. Newman ("What, me worry?") and the Bobby McFerrin song ("Don't worry -- be happy") -- all he ever did was love.  Over and over.  Day after day.

Have a testy or scared new pup?  Throw it in with Magic.  Have a dog with too much attitude?  Throw it in with Magic.  A kid that wants to pound on a dog until he (the kid) is tired?  Give him to Magic.  Have a boy-child (Slick) with an attitude that thinks he can get the better of his old man?  Put him out in the yard with Magic -- Slick "grring" and posturing -- his dad simply turning around and LOOKING at his son -- don't know what passed between them, but Slick always seemed to have an "oh, sorry, I didn't mean to" attitude and would immediately walk the other direction.

Some parts of him were so beautiful -- an absolute textbook head, front, shoulder layback, beautiful balance.  But there were those things that everyone (except his TOTALLY clueless owner/handler) knew would stop him from finishing -- I thought he was beautiful -- despite the fact that when he was young his ears were so close together that they touched!  And he didn't have enough size for conventional "show thoughts" -- and his rear wasn't very good -- but boy, did I think he was a beauty.  The first dog that I showed and put every point on -- despite the disbelief of all those who watched him finish at 18 months with three majors!  I had complete confidence in him -- ALL the time.  And what he did for my confidence and learning in the show ring is absolutely incalculable.  I simply did not know he could lose.  So he didn't.

Out of our dear, darling Hank (our ambling Hank) -- SO SMART -- smarter than the average Siberian (they are all smart, but he was like his mom -- one of the "intelligent" dogs) -- and never one to waste energy.  Boy, was he his mother's child -- in attitude -- and he could sure duplicate her look -- When I'd clean the -- we have ten "houses" -- get the boys' clean and call "Magic, Magic" at the top of my lungs -- and here he comes -- charging around the corner -- and comes to a screeching halt -- with that LOOK.  "Mom, why are you in Run No. 6 -- you KNOW I live in No. 5 and that DOOR IS CLOSED! Get a clue!!"  (Oh, yeah, I'm forever losing count)

Such a sense of what could be counted as a prize -- he was the master treasure finder -- sticks, toys, soda cans -- and unbelievable stuff that became toys -- he never ate rocks -- he actually PLAYED with them.  And made everyone else think that whatever he had was the VERY BEST THING EVER.  (Try that when you are running around the yard with LEMONS in your mouth!!)

No nonsense -- just complete and total sweetness.  He never had a cross thought or a bad day -- in nine years.  What a darling he was.

We found him quietly gone when we got home from work yesterday -- I guess his mother called him -- with no doubt the urging of his pal, Bandit -- We so miss him already -- his bunkie, Raider, is at a complete loss just as we are -- but, thank you God, for not making him suffer and taking him when it was his time -- it never would have been his time if it was left to us.