Goodbye Polar Bear

Just as a warning,

this is probably going to make you cry;

it makes me cry writing it.

We were concerned as usual for our other dogs and

the expected problems they have with July 4th,

and all of the noise and flashing that they hate so much

that seems to be going on all around us.

(We can see four or five professional shows from our house,

and we feel so bad about the things we lit off;

some of which were louder than usual.)

But we knew they were safe hiding in the barn,

we knew they would be okay.

We should have worried more about our Haggai.

He has often been frightened during thunderstorms,

and occasionally climbed the fence to escape;

but he hadn't done that for awhile.

So we were pretty worried when we couldn't

find him this morning.

Mom and I drove around the block, calling for him.

We found him about a mile away,

but the part of him we all loved best was gone.

A car had gotten him.

We're still very much in denial that our polar bear isn't here.

He was such a calm, gentle, faithful guy.

He humbly protected and guarded our sheep for

about five years, and filled a role that can never be replaced.

We'll never forget his big brown eyes,

his unflinching stare,

his handshake.

He was so huge, so quiet,

so big and brave;

and yet so vulnerable.

Dad buried on him on a little rise between the

woods and the pasture.

A place where his sheep often come to rest;

right in the heart of the land he watched so well.

We miss you bud.