Thumb up, pointer finger extended, “Bang!” It was his best trick, playing drop-dead Ted.

I thought my wife was going to kill him the first night in the apartment. Cordoned off in the kitchen, he started to howl. The hot water bottle trick didn’t work. The ticking clock didn’t work. The stuffed Pooh bear got us a night’s sleep, and Teddie had a new best friend.

Our neighbor Bill used to torment Ted and us by jingling his keys as he walked by. Just so he could hear Sharon scream, “Shut-up Teddie!” I have yet to meet a dog that understands the word shut-up.

Ted loved camping. The freedom to run with his friend Kiena the yellow lab. He would rip around like a racing motorcycle leaning hard into the corners all day. And curl up with us in the tent at night.

Ted became Poppa’s buddy when he was battling cancer and staying with us in the apartment. Poppa loved the fact Ted would sit on his lap when he took him in his truck.

We moved into a house in a small town to start our family. Ted could recognize the boy’s cries, just like any parent can. He loved the tiny humans that increased the size of his pack. And they hugged him right back.

When they started attending school, Ted rode shotgun every day. He walked the boys up the path to school and loved all the attention and affection.

Spider Ted was a real hit on Halloween. Of course, he loved the donut hole he got at Tim’s on the way back home when I got my coffee.

We moved again—this time to get a pool for the boys. Ted liked swimming and shaking. 

Teddie’s vet came out of retirement to help him transition to heaven. That day sucked. 

I don’t believe there is separate doggy heaven. Just one so I can see my buddy again and watch him roll over—his second-best trick.

– Gary Bernier