Since I'm a pets person, I couldn't help but like him. He was a sweet dog--gentle, friendly with people and other dogs. He wasn't a fetch dog; indeed, let him off his leash and he would run away, eventually make a new friend or two, and let them find the tag on his collar so that he could be reunited with his people (and show off his new friend).
When Jenn and her daughters adopted Cisco from the Humane Society, they also adopted a second dog, Lilu. Lilu and Cisco were great friends, but Lilu got loose one time and was hit by a car. I never met her. I mention her as background--in many families, each pet "belongs" to one member of the family more than the others. Cisco was Rachel's dog (Lilu was Sarah's).
With Rachel away at college for much of the last four years, she was not around to do daily care for Cisco. I assumed most of the "make sure the dog gets fed/gets his meds/gets his walks" duties. I didn't mind, really. I enjoyed being out walking with him, in part just seeing him enjoy checking his "p-mail" forums and making his contributions to the "discussions" around the various shrubs, fire hydrants, mailbox posts, and so on. He helped me meet many of our neighbors, too. I feel that neighbors walking dogs helps a neighborhood be a neighborhood. It's almost a block-watch group.
Cisco had been having a rougher time over the last couple of years. One thing we found as we moved into this house was that he was doing poorly at remembering that his bathroom was outside. Our Veterinarian helped us with a canine senility drug. Eventually, the pill became a couple of pills, as liver troubles came into the picture last year. With two or sometimes three pills, we moved to putting the pills in a glob of peanut butter to make things easier for all of us. I have it on good authority that dogs like peanut butter--at least every dog I've seen express an opinion has been fond of it.
The days of lolling in his bed came to and end at some point. He apparently found it hard to get on or off it. Or the floor felt better because it was cooler. Or something. He wasn't the most vocal dog I've known.
Toward the end, though, it was clear he was suffering a bit. He was on pain medication, but at times the pain was more than the medication could control for him. He wasn't having a good time being a dog. None of us could make him suffer any more. His last treats were the dried sweet potato things we found at Feeder's. He would do anything he was able to do for one of those.
I'll miss seeing his joy at knowing he was about to get one.
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