by Karen Templin
Lawson, you lived your life that way you wanted to. You wrote your own program; you wrote your own script. You had an additude that was all your own. I think that a cat was your mother and Houdini was your father. You could climb on just about everything (things that most dogs couldn't or wouldn't do) and you could let yourself out of just about anything. At your best weight, (about 18 pounds), you could open screen doors, push aside a picket slat in the fence that was not nailed tight enough (how did you know which one was loose?), and so many other things that let you go free. When we moved to the midwest into a townhouse in a large complex in '98 the first day you let yourself out, and I chased you for half an hour, and when I finally caught you I had no idea where we lived. It took me another hour to find our house. They all looked alike. You have left so many memories. All the times you fell in the toilet trying to climb on the top of the tank (we finally learned to keep the lid down); when you fell in love with the St Bernard down the street who weighed about 150 pounds more than you; when you barked like crazy because you thought your dinner was late; when you couldn't do the stairs anymore and put your paws up to be picked up to be taken downstairs. So many memories, so many stories. For all your BA (bad attitude) you loved Bodacious (2 years your junior) and the rescue dog we took in last summer who had been horribly abused (see Botangles Oct.2000 - the first time I heard about Rainbowsbridge) and BB, our other rescue guy. Bodie is having a bad time without you. He sat at the door last night and barked softly for about an hour. I think he was saying stop playing hide and seek, come home. I wish you could.
Even after all the minor strokes and the major one you still fought. You had more will and strength than any person or animal that I have ever known. Daddy and I will miss you all the days of our lives as will Bodie and BB.
Love you, guy. Mom