I first met Puck when he was a wee little puppy, no bigger than a hand. He was the cutest little thing and so full of mischief. Even as he got older and bigger (and smellier), he was still one of the best dogs I've ever known. Puck loved beer - a taste he developed after being locked on the sun porch with only a quarter barrel of beer for company during one of our parties. We could always count on him to clean up our spills - as long as it was dark beer! (my kind of dog) He was a good guard dog, too. We all knew Michelle would be safe on her road trip out west with Puck to take care of her.And then there's Mike. He showed up on my porch one snowy Wisconsin night and immediately crawled into my arms, and my heart. He was with me through two good years of co-op living and made the move to Portland in 2001, hating the car the whole way. He spent most of that trip under the driver's seat, meowing pitifully every now and again just to let me know he was still there and still miserable. When I brought my girls home from the hospital, he took it in stride. Whenever I was holding only one baby and had room for a kitty in the other arm, he'd hop right up and take a little nap. He put up with a lot of tail pulling and fur grabbing from our girls as they grew, but he remained his calm, sweet self throughout.
It's a hard decision to let go of a pet, but Mike & Puck are remembered fondly and missed by all who knew them.
