In Memoriam: Hoover

In her book Bliss to You, Trixie Koontz, a golden retriever who is waiting for her human parents at the Rainbow Bridge, shares her secrets for achieving bliss. She quotes Josh Billings, who said, "A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than he loves himself." Then, Trixie writes,

"Dogs give unconditional love so you will be teensy bit prepared for God's love when you die and meet Him. Otherwise, God's love would knock you flat."

Trixie is a wise soul, as are all golden retrievers. Hoover, our furry golden sunshine, went ahead to wait for us today. Our sadness is in direct proportion to the love he gave us. He knocked us flat.

I have more pictures than words.

His puppy picture, taken the day we picked him out at the breeders. They called him Waggy because his tail was always moving.

George with his puppy that same sunny summer day in 1997.


At his first play date at a friend's house. His friend was a black lab puppy named Boise.


George with a sacked-out Hoover. Play dates are hard work!


Hoover was the quintessential annoying little brother to his big sister, Shemya.



See what I mean? When he got a bit older and bigger, he would jump on top of her head. Shemya had a perfect response...she would whip her head around and unerringly catch his lip in her teeth and nip. Hoover never learned.

Family portrait before children.


Off on a hike in the foothills around Boise, Idaho.


Hoover, a.k.a Crazy Whisker Boy. His whiskers totally reflected his goofy, wacky, happy personality.


We humiliated him in our house in Ohio. His claws scratched the hardwood floors, so we made him wear dog booties inside. We eventually gave up, though. The floor has that "a big hyper dog lived here" look. I can live with that. George calls it "distressed."

Eating an orange creamcicle. Hoover loved human food, and got a lot of it in the last four months of his life.

Wriggling with unrestrained dog joy. He wriggled every day. There's a lesson in that, don't you think?

Hiking at a nearby state park. Like all goldens, he loved being outside with his peeps.


Giving us Hoover kisses. He felt we needed our daily dose of dog spit and was conscientious in administering it.

Me with Hoover last Thursday. One of the last pictures George took of him. Also the day of his last walk.


A theme of Trixie's book is to keep from mourning excessively. Trixie's human parents, Dean and Gerda Koontz, were doing just that when Trixie sent them a sign, in the form of an unusual golden butterfly, that she was okay and they needed to let her go. We informed Hoover he needed to do the same for us, just so we'd know he was okay, too.

I'll keep you posted.

Trixie makes another observation I am sure Hoover would agree with, so I'll leave you with it.

"Fame means nothing. Time erases fame. Great power doesn't last. Time erases the powerful. Your anger dies with you. What love you give lives on. Cynic will sneer at this truth. Time erases cynics."

Time won't erase our memories of our Furry Golden Sunshine.