We said a very sad goodbye to our pal Mow today. He had nearly 15 (just weeks shy) years of amazing adventures, fabulous roadtrips, and lots of love. I only knew Mow (pronounced 'mo', as in "mow' the grass) in the second half of his life--one slightly calmer than his wild days of youth, which were spent travelling the country on one adventure after another with Steve. I've heard stories of Mow hanging with a 'gang' of dogs in the parks of Salt Lake City; being chased off cowpastures by farmers (with guns) in West Virginia; running alongshore many a whitewater kayaking trip; nearly taking a 'swim' at Niagra Falls; and traversing many a mountain range. He had far more encounters with wildlife of the LARGE variety than I could ever recount, and he managed to escape his own demise more times than anyone thought possible for one dog. When I met SteveandMow (oh yes, a package for sure), they completely changed the way I thought about pets and companionship and spiritual connection. I had never seen such respect for the spirit of an animal, and never seen a dog live so 'free'. Mow's later years were spent in a lovely 'retirement'--full of beach jaunts, running in the woods, and a surprising patience with the little babies that entered his life. The past four years he has spent as 'master' of the dog-friendly park our home borders-- he was a 'leash-free' roamer and sometimes walking companion to those passing by.
Journey on, dear one. We will miss you so, so much.
