My Max

When I first saw him, he was chained in the backyard wearing a bandana around his neck - a four month old puppy who had been abandoned along a mountain road. His rescuer had named him Buck after the hunting trip that led to his discovery. There was no question, not an instant of hesitation, I knew he was my dog. He knew it too. "Buck" never paused as he trotted beside me out of that house and into the beginning of our too short nine years together. Hopping into the front seat of my old valiant, he wagged his tail, leaned into the seat and was ready to go. Whenever I asked, Max was always ready to go.

Max, you are forever in my heart,
yet how desperately
I miss you by my side.