"Mischievious Spirit"
Daddy's Little Man
1995-2009
He was my constant companion these past 14 years, my little shadow I introduced simply as "my son."
On our first backcountry trip, just days after being sprung from the pound, it started to snow. Puck quietly got up from the fire and ambled into the tent and went to sleep as though he'd been doing this his whole life. The next day, climbing a vertical peak to catch a view of Silver Lake, Puck shamed me by running to the top, running back down again, then back up ... I finally gave in, clinging to the side of the mountain in panting exhaustion, straining my neck to see as much as I could before turing back. Puck stood atop the peak scanning the view and looking down at me with that dog-grin, as if to say, "What, exactly, is your problem? You're missing a stunning view!"
He never understood why we needed a house when we had all of the grand outdoors for the taking. When for awhile I was between homes in 2002 and traveling Colorado in my truck, Puck was my living "Snuggy," always enthusiastic for the sunrises, ready to bound out and explore wherever we had landed.
Puck hiked the Rio Grande Gorge, camped with me at Diamond Fork hot springs, survived a near-fatal slide down a glacier to the lip of a thousand-foot chasm (I'll never understand how he stopped himself, backpedaling like a cartoon character), and spent endless (it seemed) days exploring the slickrock desert of Utah with me.
He sat by a million campfires, gently panting his contentment as the firelight reflected from his silky black face and shined in his eyes.
It will be a long time coming before I'm able to close a door behind me without looking first to see if he's trying to come through after me.
Puck was my baby, and it was my honor to spend these years in his gentle company. He lives on in my heart, and in the hearts of all those fortunate enough to have loved him over the years.
