Tonight I moved Cowboy’s bed from its corner near the front door in the living room.  I removed the pillow’s giant cover, and threw it in the laundry room. The cover was soiled and dirty.  I was never that good about consistently cleaning Cowboy’s bed, partly because I’m lazy and partly because he was always dirty.

And now I don’t know what to do with the dog bed.  Washing it feels like washing him away.  The dirt on it came from Cowboy’s belly, from the dried mud on his paws, and, yes, even a little bit of deer poop under his neck. That’s who Cowboy was.  He was a dirty dog because he was a working dog.

I’ll never foget the look in his eyes when I found him on the road.  He was scared.  Not from being hit,  but from breaking the rules. He knew he messed up big.  He didn’t want to disappoint us because that’s the kind of dog he was.

And now we’re left with a lifetime of memories and a dirty dog bed.  Jake removed his water bowl and food bowl tonight. I’m not sure where he put them. Maybe downstairs. With the rest of the storage.  Or maybe he put them in a special Cowboy place I don’t know about yet.  I hope it’s the latter.

It will be a long time before this house feels like a home again. Thank God for June.

We found a bottle of wine wrapped with this lovely rendering of Cowboy on our front porch when we arrived home last night.  Little Cowboy touched so many people’s lives.  Thank you, Becca….

We’re grieving the loss of our beloved dog Cowboy this week. Thanks, everyone, who’s reached out to us. I haven’t been able to respond individually because it’s just too hard.

I’m not very good at writing eulogies so I won’t even try. But Cowboy was one of those rare and special dogs who come around once a lifetime. We’ll never have another dog like him.  He was sensitive, intuitive, gentle and loving. He was in a class by himself. He was a classy dog. He had better manners than some people. He loved to work (herding cattle was his specialty).  He occasionally rolled in deer poop. He enjoyed catching snowballs in his mouth.  He loved to run.  He set the example for our other two dogs, also taken from us prematurely.  I know of at least three couples who went out and got a dog after spending time with Cowboy.  As my mother-in-law said, Cowboy was a legend.  To know him was to love him.  He touched so many people’s lives, most of all our own.

Cowboy has been a part of our story since the very beginning.  The day I met Jake eight years ago in Miles City, Montana, was the day I met Cowboy  and it’s been Jake and Cowboy ever since. Where one goes, the other is close behind, wagging his little tail with a big smile on his face. Even the ladies at the bank are going to miss him.

And now he’s gone. In an instant.  Eleven years, just gone.  As Jake is prone to say, we’re never promised tomorrow and never have I felt this more than I do today.

Where a lot of people would have kept driving, the young couple who hit him had the courage to knock on my door right after it happened.  Cowboy was alive when I found him.  We picked him up and laid him in the back of my car.  He died in my arms.

As cruel as his death was,  I’m so thankful he was tended to right after it happened. He didn’t have to suffer in the cold by himself by the side of the road, cars whizzing by, hearing me screaming for him but too weak to respond.  He was cared for and loved up until and beyond his very last breath.

Cowboy, we know you’re up in doggie heaven sitting on a throne made of raw meat and dog bones, but down here, Bunga,we will carry you in our hearts forever.

There will never be another Cowboy.

There will never be another one like you.

Here’s the reason I ditched Manhattan for the rural south. My husband Jake is part cowboy, soldier, dog whisperer, brew-master….he even bakes cookies during his downtime. He’s a lovable goofball who happens to be blissfully 185 percent ALL MALE.  Is there a woman alive who wouldn’t swoon over a dude like this?  I’m biased, but I submit no. 

Jake building fences

Jake holding a cut-out doll while in Iraq