Kleineschwarzehund

Mom picked you out of the remaining sisters of your litter. You had a dirty, oily mark above your eyes and you climbed atop your siblings to get the best view you could of the big people standing over you, attempting to get some attention.

It worked.

Twelve years plus, a dickey right hip and a left bionic knee later, you were still chipper and eager to run around the yard just last night after I finished cutting the grass.

I called for you after Mom lost sight of you in the back yard, sure that you'd run off to see the rest of the neighborhood. Instead, you were right there on the porch, looking down at me with those beady, black eyes and your tail up. You ran around to join us and played in the yard with me for a few minutes, enjoying a good scratch around the neck, while Mom finished looking after her garden.

We all came inside to clean up for the evening and settled down for bed.

You passed sometime in the night, in your usual spot on the tile, family upstairs. Peacefully.

Thanks for being the best dog I've ever had, Montana. Your passing comes just three months after your little sister.

It will be hard, and we will always miss you.

Solving what?

Problems?

I'll let you in on the obvious, Ward; the boneheads who inhabit the Congress don't solve problems, they only create them, boy.

Sit your stupid ass down and shut the fuck up.

And find another line of (hopefully meaningful or productive) work.