To Boone

          Boone has been good luck from the beginning. When we first brought him home from his foster parents, he helped bring UNC an upset victory in the NCAA tournament. I held Boone as Woody Durham implored us to “touch the radio” for luck. An eighth seeded UNC team rode that victory to the Final Four. Boone was there throughout the journey. What he lacked in basketball knowledge he made up for in enthusiasm -- an enthusiasm that transferred to everything he did. It was infectious. And sometimes a bit much. His tail was perpetually bloody because he wagged it so ferociously. He injured neighbors when they tried to walk him. He could sense the mailman from miles away and made everyone aware of his immense dislike. He was passionately alive -- a bundle of energy that couldn’t be tamed. Trying to teach him commands and obedience was a futile task. Boone as a young dog never meant any harm. But he sure was a handful.

        Over time, Boone lost a bit of his youthful enthusiasm. His tail no longer banged against the walls at the slightest sign of excitement. Walks became more tranquil affairs -- as long as that darned mailman didn’t drive by. Even as an older, less energetic dog, the great aspects of Boone’s character remained unchanged. He still loved everyone he met, eagerly volunteered to lick dishes clean, and collected tennis balls wherever he could find them. He even disproved the adage that “old dogs can’t learn new tricks” by successfully swimming after years of being terrified of the water. His hair became a little grey and he lost a bit of his speed and energy. However, his kind soul remained. He had an innate sense for how to cheer someone up. We all leaned on Boone much more than he leaned on us. He was a wonderful dog. A lover until the end. Thank you for everything Boone. You’ll be very missed.