Cowboy...

Remembering Cowboy

Cowboy was a misfit; bad manners, bad habits, bad behavior and bad hair. I was convinced that I’d lost my mind in adopting the golden knucklehead, but in my wife’s eyes, he was a perfect match for me… bad manners, bad habits, bad behavior and bad hair.

Our first week together was spent trying to figure out just who was to be the alpha dog.  However, things improved greatly when Mom proclaimed her ascension to the lofty position and our descent to the pack.  We quickly became best pals and except for my time at work and his time napping, we were inseparable. 

I could write at length about the adventures, misadventures and just plain fun we shared during our time together, but I’ll sum it up by saying Cowboy was indeed perfect in my eyes… perfect in name, just like the noble but reckless individuals that helped forge Texas… perfect in grace for his love without condition and perfect in life as I held him in my arms one last time, pressed my face to his and let him slip away.

We were a great match.  For that moment, at least in his eyes… I too was perfect.