Brooks

Brooks was a good dog, and my first.
He was just about the worst physical specimen for a Gordon Setter you’ve ever seen. He topped out at 120 pounds one year, until I put him on a diet and got him down to a “reasonable” 100. Breed standard for males is about 80-85 pounds. He was big boned – really. I know, that sounds like the excuse we all make for being overweight. This animal’s front leg bones were bigger than my wrists. He had droopy eyes, crooked teeth, a sagging jaw line, and a pretty poor excuse for a tail, for a Setter.

He was a dreadful watchdog, too. He never met a stranger. He’d bark, alright, but then he’d run to the door to greet anyone there, whether I knew them or not. It’s a wonder he didn’t just let the burglars in and help them carry out anything they wanted.

Repairmen would come to the house, but never ask after my girlfriend or me. They always asked about Brooks as soon as they got here. Two women in the house, and they want to talk to my dog instead??? My florist loved him, too. If I remember right, he was upset the first time he came here and found out Brooks was gone.

I was thinking about him today. It was six years ago this morning I had to let him go. After going into shock, and a long complicated surgery for cancer, he just could not fight any more.

So, here’s to you, Brooks-y-dog. I’m not the only one who misses you!