Hiram Clell Sbith is onethat will live on. Clell, was always full of surprises and exuberance. This story of Clell, in my mind is fiction of course, but it is my way of expressing him. Although, it is fiction, l am not so sure Clell could not have pulled it off in a much betterway than i can write it. Clell and i were together for almost nine years. He knew me as well as i knew him. He watched me when i did not know he was watching and i watched him "never" when he did not know i was watching. On with this mythical story that best describes him. It was a warm afternoon and my chores were completed early. Sharon was delivering her mail. Clell looked at me and asked what are you going to do? Thoes big eyes could sink a battle ship. Remembering i had seven dollars and the Nooksack Casino was only 20 minutes away, I put my shoes on, but could ony find $5. With just the two of us here, it was difficult not to talk to Clell. Sometimes he would answer me with his unique expressions. This time he would not do anything except express let's go. Clell, where is my other two dollars? Nothing. OK, I have five bucks, get in the car. Traffic was moderate driving to the Casino in the middle of the afternoon. Once ther and parked, I told Clell I would be back in a little while. Those quarter slot machines would take my money and then give it back. Just a good relaxing way to spend an hour or so, besides watching people walking around and playing cards. All of a sudden i noticed at one of the card tables was a little man with a base ball cap on and a cigar in his mough that was smelling just like one of mine that Michael had sent me from Georgia. Under his base ball cap was a short haired wig that had everyone folled. This little cigar smooking guy was not only drawing my attention but every Nooksak Indian in the casino. Everyone was interested in how much mony he was winning. This little cigar smoking man with the cap on his head was cleaning up all the Nooksack Indian money. He had a big pile of dollars in front of him and the smell of the cigar in his mouth was bothering me to the point that I was just about to walk over there and introduce myself when chaso broke out. You have never heard any such Indian language, well I never have. Only Clell and the "There was my boy" I spoke. Clell spit that cigar out of his mouth and ran for the door. The Nooksack Indians, while in such a shock of dismay thus allowing me to get out to the car before all of the tribe. Now, think about it. What would you do? Get out of there fast or give the money back to the Indians. Well, I did not have time to think about it. As I burned tire rubber getting away from all those mad Indians, Clell rolled down the rear window and gave them the tooth. The drive back to Bellingham and quite and I could not believe Clell could have done that. Once home I told Clell the money was mine and to give it to me. He disappeared for the rest of the evening. The next day or morning, I got up and the whole ordeal was on my mind. Not only that but, Clell was not waiting by my bedroom door to greet me. Just the thought of not seeing Clell watching me shivers mw to the bones. Guess the sound of a papper bag shacking out back caused me to open the door. There was an inbelieveable sight. Clell was taking dog bones from a large bag and burying them all over the backyard. Clell, must have used another wig and baseball cap, gone to the corner store and spent all that money. As I said, this story is fiction but, it is my best way of expressing his personality. Clell, had to leave April 27, 2000. I thank God for the few years he allowed me to enjoy this Boxer, Companion and Friend. Clell's ashes stayed in a sealed box on top of the fireplace untile noon today July 20, 2000. He love to lie in front of a fire in the fireplace on cold evenings. There is a shady area in the northest corner of the back yard here at 2439 Moore street, bellingham where he favored to relax on hot summer afternoons. No better place for Clell to rest forever. Everything had to be just right for me to do what i knew i I must do and I felt i had to do this alone, except for "Fancy" another boxer four mounths old. As active as she is, she laid quietly about two feet away with her big head resting on a pile of dirt watching everything. Clell's box of ashes are wrapped in a plastic bag in the center of a hole of 120 pounds of cement along with his picture, story and his cloveer leaf scraf wrapped around his box. He loved his scarves. A lighthouse stepping stone on top of the ground marks this spot. This simulates a remembrance of almost nine years that can not ever be forgotten. On our calendar for April 2000 it says on the bottom, "On this day, try to understand". There are many untold stories of this boxer named "Clell" Memories will live on for the many people that knew him. Tonight, a young girl ten or twelve came to the door selling coupon books. I did not remember her but she asked about Clell. I ask her when she last saw him and she replied about a year ago. Others have passed and asked about Clell. He was not expected by us to be a show dog although his father and grandfather were both grand champions in Canada, the U.S. and Bermuda. He was our friend and a lover of children. No words could ever express this Boxer's intelligence and personality. He will always be with us and others. Last week while while smoking a cigar by the back door I heard his barking by the back gate. I went out there in the dark to the gate and heard him once again off in the distance. Clell, came back here a few times after leaving for Sharon and I to see he was alright. We understand all this and cope with it. C.M. "Bud" Kinsey, thank you.