In one sense, posting on this board is like typing into thin air, where whatver stranger passes by might see the words. And yet, it's like my extended family here. I have shared many personal unchiplike things, like building a deck and remodelling my office. In many pictues from my personal life was my personal best friend. I now have a great sadness to share with my chipboard family.

Kokopuff the Pomeranian came into this world in late August of 1995. Diane discovered him in a pet shop on December 20th and decided I needed a puppy. From our first day together, more than anything else he wanted to please me and protect me. Though these two goals many times were at odds with each other, there was no doubt in anyone's mind he was truly my best friend. Without my ever actually having to teach him, he would wait for my permission to get off the bed, to get on the bed, to get in the car, to get out of the car, to lick the bowl. He loved to go for a ride. I never understood why he felt safer and more at ease being left alone in the car for an hour than alone in the house for five minutes. For the first two years of his life I had a job where he could go to work with me every day. Life was good.

Unfortunately, while he had a sharp mind and a true love of life, nature did not bless him with a strong body. In March of '98 he had surgery for patellar luxation, a condition not uncommon to dogs of his species where the knee would not stay properly in place. In December of '99 he had surgery for bladder stones. In late '98 he started developing an occasional difficulty swallowing. The condition worsened in early 2000. It was finally diagnosed as nerve damage in the throat, most likely due to allergic reaction to anesthesia.

Apparently, every time we sought to improve his life through surgery, we were doing more damage than good. By mid to late 2000 Puff Boy was having chronic serious difficulty swallowing his food. We put him on soft canned food, and later started blending it with water because he had less trouble drinking than eating. In the wee morning hours of April 1st, 2001 Diane and I returned home from an evening out to find we had lost the Boy. Whether his throat had shut down, or his heart had given out, it was apparent he had fallen over without a struggle. The loss seems more than I can bear.

My father passed away this last summer at the ripe old age of 93. While I was sad at his passing, there was also a sense that these matters were part of the natural order of things, and mixed with the sorrow was a sense of relief that the suffering had finally ended. I feel no relief at the passing of my beloved Puff Boy. He was a good and noble dog, who loved to fetch and "lose" his ball (on purpose of course) under the TV where it was hard to get. He loved walks and rides and anything that meant going somewhere and doing something with his daddy. And he could spell all those things too. I feel something like the loss a mother must feel at the passing of a child with unfulfilled potential. Our Kokopuff was not yet 6 years old, less than 40 in dog years. It's not fair that he should be gone so soon. I loved him more than words can say. May he rest in peace.