One day early last summer, as I was out gardening in the front yard, I spotted a lanky dog meandering down the road. Owner-less and collar-less, he sniffled about in leisurely way, completely oblivious to the oddness of his presence.
I called my roommate who, having a dog of his own that he regularly walked through the neighborhood, might recognize this old gent.
As it happened, the roommate did not know the dog, but took him all over town in search of the home from which he had surely escaped.
One month later, after numerous trips, emails, posts to lost dog fora/craigslist/petfinder, calls to the humane society and animal control in two cities, it began to dawn on us that this dog could end up ours for good.
We struggled with a name. He was so old and grey, we had taken to calling him Geriatric. But, a friend informed us that such a thing seemed rude... and suggested GeriPatric. It stuck.
Shortly after Geri's arrival into our lives, we lost my roommate's dog Jacques. One day he simply could not use his back end any longer. Recently, the same thing happened to Geri.
So today, we say goodbye to GeriPatric as well.
Geri will be most remembered for his random voluntary trips to places like Broadway Liquor Outlet (he forgot to bring money) and Fire and Ice, as well as his surprisingly deft pizza-stealing abilities.
Geri was also quite tolerant of our various foster puppies.
Rest in peace, Geri.
So, as Jeff has pretty much covered this issue, I'll spare you all my rant (but please do read his.)
