Gunner, our mixed Staffordshire terrier passed away a few nights ago. The Husband called him a little marine as Gunner would confidently, dont' mess with us attitude - lead us during our walks. In the dog's hay day he was a stocky handsome little guy. He had been adopted by husband from a woman who had found Gunner living in Golden Gate Park. The dog loved company and a party was a time for him to make the rounds wagging his tail and smiling and stealing food. On my first visit to the husband's den where he brought me for play date, Gunner eagerly came forward to greet the new "babe." I got down on my knees and began to romp with the dog letting the hopeful other wait a bit. Even as the hopeful voiced that any woman who like his dog would be a good for him, Gunner and I had already bonded. That was 11 years ago and during that time boyfriend became Husband and my sweet girl Standard Poodle and my cat have passed. Husband's two cats and now, Gunner are gone. All from age. Each pet had her or his special personality and within Gunner's, was his ability to openly comfort the sad and lick away tears. When he heard crying his ears would flop back into half domes, exposing the inner pinks and he jumped up on the crying one (usually me) to to lap up tears. Maybe it was the salt. Ha! The little guy couldn't wait for a rub down as the husband called a good all over body petting. Gunner was diabetic and eventually became blind. He had become gray and bony, even with his barrel chest. No longer could he enjoy walks because sounds and movement scared him. He slept a lot. Every day he endured two shots and ate only special foods. We cheated. He loved it. I read that Gunner's breed can live up to 15 years. He beat that by about a year. We are sad. Our pets were funny, bothersome, comforting, a job, protective, a joy and with the fondest of memories, we honor their time with us. We miss them all. We miss Gunner. Blessed be.