Our beloved shepherd Lucky died this morning.
Years after being told he soon wouldn’t be able to walk, it finally came true. Though he was vigilant until the end, he was distressed when he was unable to patrol his rounds or chase the birds away from Redwing Ranch. The enormous vigor and vitality that defined him finally were exhausted.
Known in our pack as Lucky the Lionhearted (The First of His Name), he joined us in 1998 after Barbara discovered him as an abandoned pup in a Target parking lot. His devotion to our family—and especially Barb—never wavered. He was unflaggingly attentive and responsive, always a diligent and stalwart companion, ever faithful.
Based on appearance and temperament I believe his predominant breed was Beauceron, although of course his ears were never cropped and his classification for agility dog competitions was "all-American."
From Bob Dylan:
Each invisible prayer is like a cloud in the air
Tomorrow keeps turning around
We live and we die, we know not why
But I'll be with you when the deal goes down
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