I said goodbye to Biscuit after four and 1/2 years today. I'd been thinking about it for a while, ticking off Biscuit's needs with my own, weighing his happiness against the trauma of re-homing a dog in midlife and filtering everything through the paraffin lens of future tense. Short-term employment, habitual migration, single caretaker, long hours at work, low income etc. etc. etc.
I thought I had a pretty good handle on the decision until this morning, walking down the stairs back to my apartment after his release. The image of my little buddy nervously peering at me from between two kind old retirees (strangers) in the front of a Dodge pickup hit me in the stomach like a sack of bricks. Biscuit is gone. I will not see him again.
His dog bed did it to me again this evening, and now his photographs. And oh the photos! I am guilty of "missing" Biscuit while I still had him, looking at his old photos and sweetly reminiscing with my faithful companion. But he deserves some kind of tribute, so I must suffer through and get this scattered homage committed to print.
I will miss you Biscuit. You were a good friend, a loyal companion, and a pretty fucking sweet dog.
2005 - Biscuit is Given to me as a Gift in the ROK
Those Early Carefree Days
King of the Jungle, Lord of All Beasts
Hometown? Gurishi.
In the Shadow of a Strangely Ironic Canine Right of Passage into Adulthood
2006 to 2007 - The Allergy Bomb (Minnesota)
By this time my life had folded into waiting tables at Red Lobster, trying to get dates on match.com, and spending $300 a month to stay on top of Biscuit's Allergy Problems.
What an Adventurous Little Fellow!
Does Biscuit want to go for a ride? Yes. Yes Biscuit does. Let's go to Bowling Green Ohio. What the hell?
One of an Odd Dozen or so Major Humiliations during his Tenure as Pet
From Seoul to Seattle to Saint Paul to Bowling Green to Santa Rosa. Biscuit was truly a world traveller. Here he is romping and stomping in the Pacific off Nor-Cal.
1/23/2010 - Biscuit Enjoys a Final Long Walk in the Morning Moisture Still of the Guerneville Woodlands
