Tucson has passed

On August 7th, 2009, my best friend, Tucson, passed away in my arms.
We have been joined for 13 years, working, playing, advocating, and FUN-draising together.
I have contemplated the meaning of Friendship since my 2nd year in college, reading essays written by Aristotle, Kant, Hobbes, Hume, and Huisinga among others.
There are many types of friends: drinking buddies, merchants, sexual partners, spouses, children.
Most rare is the friendship based purely on the simple notion that the friendship exists for and of itself. That is the kind Tucson and I developed. We were friends for no other reason but to be each others’ friend.
In my senior year at UCLA, during one of my classes, the question arose: “What is your favorite thing to do? i.e. What is your passion?
My answer was curt, clean, and immediate: I loved spending time with my dog.
I called him my dog, because society dictates that a dog must belong to an owner, but that was not the relationship we had. He was not a surrogate child, and I was quick to correct those who presumed to call him “my kid” or that I was “his dad.”
He was never broken to accept me as the Alpha-male in our pack-of-two. He did his own thing, and I did mine, and miraculously, we just happened to be traveling the same path in life.
He was my guide, my reason for being, the pillar on which I leaned, and our relationship was 100% reciprocal. How many people can say that of anyone?
He was a gentleman to the end, never complaining about the arthritis and hip dysplasia which wracked his body with obvious pain, and on his final night, he restlessly paced the apartment, looking for a place to quietly hide and unobtrusively begin his final journey. Not finding that place, he waited patiently for me to awake, by which time he trembled as I took him in my arms and told him, “It’s okay. You will always be with me. I’ll be okay. You can rest.” His panting slowed, he smiled at me, and then the light faded from his golden-brown eyes.
Tucson touched so many lives, I cannot enumerate them all. From the lonely hordes of students at UCLA to the “Sick & Sad” children at Keystone Ski & Ride School to the mentally retarded clients of Residential Resources in Maine. His gentle demeanor, his benevolent hand-licks; I reckon he blessed all those who met him.
He was my eyes, my ears, my anchor. Never a day went by that he didn’t encourage me to smile.
He was a chaser of squirrels, a bather in fountains, no lawn was groomed so neatly as those imprinted by his somersaults.
He was my better half, and I floated on the coattails of his popularity.
When we arrived at UCLA, he was the sole dog on campus, but by the time we graduated, he left a legacy of half-a-dozen other dogs, smiling and supporting students and professors alike.
At Los Angeles City College, he taught a cadre of students how to meditate and dance, and at the Spadefoot Co-op, he ameliorated many tense situations between the residents.
He was awarded his own degree, cap, and tassel at UCLA and granted a hero’s cheers skiing in the vanguard at Vail.
He comforted the homeless in Santa Monica and raised smiles to the lips of many New Yorkers, grieving at the remains of the Twin Towers.
He was my friend, my brother, my soul mate, my spiritual reflection.
I have no address to which cards of consolation may be sent. His cremains will be scattered privately and without cut-flowers, but if you wish, I know he would be pleased by memorial donations to P.A.W.S, San Francisco or P.A.W.S., Los Angeles; the two organizations for which we donated many hours of our time and from which we received vital medical care and food over the past six years.* www.pawssf.org www.pawsla.org
Attached you will find some photos of Tucson, which I hope will make you smile.
He was very good at that--making people smile.
Even through my tears, I find the trace of a smile.
Dan
* P.A.W.S. stands for Pets Are Wonderful Support. It is a charity which helps people with life-threatening illnesses take care of their pets.