Good boy
Our good friend Evan lost his best pal Toast the dog this past Friday. Toast had lived a long and I think good life. I saw him Thursday night at their Halloween party, and he seemed happy. I went out with Evan when he took him out for a walk.
Toast was more popular than most of us in college. He went to better parties than I did. He wrote a column in the school paper.
Toast knew more attractive girls than I did.
In college, Evan and Toast were campus icons. The tall guy with the premature gray hair with his ever present handsome white dog.
Four memories that come to mind when thinking of toast.
1. We took a trip to the beach for new years in college once. Granted going to the beach in January isn't what most people would think of as a good time (even down in North Carolina). Toast came with Evan and was the token dog, so he got lots of attention from everyone. I remember running around on the beach with him. He would run around like a goof zooming around people and chasing things.
2. Evan and his lovely wife have been nice enough to invite us for thanksgiving for the past few years. I think it was last year - Evan was cutting the turkey in the kitchen and turkey juice stuff was running down the cabinet onto the floor. Toast was at Evan's feet licking the floor dry. I think that was a pretty good day for him.
3. Mrs. Robot once house sat for them and took care of Toast. We took him out for a walk, and on the way back we realized that there was a nice little patch of grass in front of their building that was fenced in. It was very late at night and no one was around, so we quietly opened the fence and let toast in and took his leash off. We were breaking about 45 co-op rules at this point.
Even though Toast was arthritic and old, I think he realized that we were giving him an opportunity to run around like a nut, and he did. He ran full speed in these tight circles around us in a figure-8 pattern. I had never seen him like this. We smiled.
4. Evan told me about a game Toast would play when he was by himself in the backyard. He would be on the porch and drop his ball off it, and run down the stairs and chase it.
And then repeat.
Toast, farewell. I hope doggie heaven is like a big party with messy humans who are dropping large chunks of food on the floor and no one is paying attention that you are munching on everything. And I hope you have a nice comfortable couch to curl up on. And an orange cat to sniff.
Toast, I'll miss your fuzzy head. You were a good dog, and lucky to be loved by such nice people.
I will pour this pot of gravy on the ground in honor of you (I assume you like gravy).
