With the heavy rains of winter, I lost a dear old friend today. Onyx. He had just turned 14 years old a few weeks ago. He was in great spirits on New Year’s Eve and fell ill yesterday. It seemed sudden, and then he suddenly felt real old.
I first saw him as a puppy just a few hours old after returning from the grocery store and finding him, his brother and sisters, and his mom on what was their new den, my couch. We grew up together and had many adventures.
I remember him as a pup, perhaps 7 or 8 weeks old running through the hills of El Sobrante with his pack, the grass so tall you could not see him until he would bounce again, his big black ears flapping in the breeze.
At one point, many years ago, we broke off from “the pack” and adventured many places together. Whether it was mountains or ocean, he always carried his own backpack and supplies.
Hiroko met him for the first time on Valley street, when he stuck his head through the kitchen garden window, and barked. That was the only time he ever did bark at her. After Hiroko and I moved to Albany and got married, Onyx watched our two boys grow up, and was always ready to play in a heartbeat. He had a tail that would never stop waggin’.
I miss you dearly old boy, but I know you now are bouncing through the grass with the sun on your face.
