This is the story of the amazing Hunter J. Marcus (my “four-legged son”). Hunter lived for 15 years and three months. He was a golden retriever and the typical lifespan for a "golden” is 10–12 years, so he definitely had high mileage. His death was not sudden, violent nor unexpected–but was nonetheless very sad.
I could not be more miserable because of the loss of a human child.
I never thought of Hunter as a pet, and certainly not as a possession. He was a housemate, playmate, child, co-conspirator, fellow traveler and–most of all–my best buddy. He soared like an eagle, swam like a porpoise, ate like a shark and often thought like a human.
Hunter understood dozens of English words and was very obedient–when he chose to be. Golden retrievers are very smart, and very independent. Hunter always knew exactly what he was supposed to do in any situation, and sometimes he was willing to do what he was supposed to do. We rewarded bad behavior because anything a dog does is cute!
This book is a memorial, but it's fun, not morbid.
