There Is No Pithy Title

The first time I met JD he was hanging out in the back of Husband's red Jeep Cherokee.  Ever a gentleman, he greeted me with civility but you could see by his expression that he had his doubts.  After all, as Husband puts it, he had 8 years in by that point and had seen several variations on the theme of Pony Tail come and go. 

I was a huge pain in his tail from the very start.  No wet dogs on the bed.  No wet dogs on the sofa.  No wet dogs on anything. To a Lab, this was a declaration of war, one that I never really won.  The sight of JD standing proudly on the sofa, dripping green ditch water and wearing that big yellow grin is one which I will remember for a very long time.  

It took three years and a lot of milk bones before he stopped whacking me deliberately (I think) on the shins with every log he'd cart with us on hikes. Before he stopped barking at me when I tried to shoo him off the bed to change the damp doggy-smelly sheets.  Before he was just as happy to see me when I got home as he was to see Husband.  Well, almost. 


 Ever stingy with his kisses, I knew I had finally passed muster one day when he snuck a quick lick on the side of my cheek as I hopped up beside him for a car ride. 


JD passed away last week, quietly and at home, after 16 years of being just about he best dog he knew how to be.  He went with mud on his paws.

The first to tell you when it was walk time, the last to get back in the van.  

JD Hood,  1995-2011