Tahoe
May 4, 1995 - August 31, 1999

I swore off all pets following the death of Buster on October 17, 1994. But 10 months later, my friend Veronica decided to give me a birthday present...a 4-month-old German Shepherd male. Tahoe. I wanted to say no. I didn't want to hurt Veronica's feelings, but NO MORE DOGS! Yet there he was, a not-so-little puppy. At four months, already the weight of Buster. And so Tahoe came to be with me. He was there through my divorce, there through my relationship with Pete, there through the birth of our son, Ryan, there through the birth of our daughter, Sam. Always there. Everywhere.

Pete and I complained to each other all the time about Tahoe following us anytime we got up to move. Every time you'd go to the bathroom, the kids' rooms, the garage, inside, outside, standing up, sitting down...he was there. And now he's not. And I can't believe he's gone. I've been with him longer than I've been with Pete. Tahoe is like Ryan's big brother. They chase each other, Ryan gives him bones all the time, Ryan calls him "Dogger," Ryan gives him big hugs. He's not even 3, and he's already lost someone in the family. And I can't believe he's gone. I want so badly for him to be at home, following me everywhere I go.

I'm going to have to trust that he'll be waiting for all of us to come home to him, and that he'll patiently wait 100 years for Ryan and Sam to get there, and that, no matter when we come, he'll be there to follow us everywhere we go.

"I love you, Tahoe. Be a good boy. Guard the house. We'll be right back."

Patty Hoyt