terminal illnesses always seem unjust--probably because they are. and despite the fact that some might say that hamilton is "just a dog", this post is dedicated to him and to all of his people that have loved and cuddled him, who have appreciated the humor, irony, and devotion inherent in his little being. to those of you who knew him from that first day that the westie rescue brought him to the apartment in bellevue, and those of you who have just now met him in clemson and greenville. to those of you who have turned off at a sonic restaurant especially for him, who have fed him hot dogs, and who know the feeling of just wanting to go home and
even though hamilton can't bark, we know he is "a storyteller with his eyes". it doesn't ever matter exactly where he is, as long as he has people that he loves and knows around him. we know that he loves to sleep on leather couches so that he doesn't have to get up when he gets hot. he loves to have his ears rubbed, and he loves to run around aunt sara's camp "naked". his favorite dog in the world is pepper/steve. he would do anything he could to protect the people that he loves and make them feel good. he can lick a plate or bowl until it is more than cleaned off or it disappears underneath a couch. A is for army. we all love (in a special way) the coughing that happens after he drinks some water.
we all know he's a good buddy...the best.
so here's to hamilton...aka hammy, hamster, buddy, buhbuh, buh, bud bud brooks, widgie woo, hoogie boogie, hamma lama ding dong...or whatever else you know him by...and here's to all of the canine companions like him who have guarded our hearts and have always been there for us.