On a summer Saturday a couple of years ago I had left the house to run an errand.  When I returned, I opened the front door and a golden labrador retriever shot out past me and into the street.  As we did not and do not own a golden labrador, I was momentarily stunned.  Then I remembered that Brian had planned to meet up with his/our friend Greg, and Greg did indeed own a golden labrador named Pavlov.

I quickly called to Pavlov, urging her to come in and off the street.  To my intense relief, she obediently came back into the house, and I strode to the back door to let her and the other dogs out for a break.  Almost immediately I heard a loud splash as she, with no pause in her stride, plunged straight into the koi pond with a total disregard for the net over it.  Eventually I got her out, toweled her off, and led her back into the house, thanking my lucky stars that neither she nor the koi had suffered any ill effect from the experience.  Right about then, Greg and Brian returned, and we had a lovely visit.

Brian and Greg had worked together for some time in previous years, and I did not know Greg that well.  But after the episode with Pavlov in the Koi Pond, visits with Greg held a hint of history and humor; I felt a little more connected with him, not the incidental wife that now came attached to his friend.

Our friend Greg passed away on Memorial Day, a victim, finally, of the leukemia he had been fighting since his second year in medical school.  We will miss him.  He was truly a good man, and deserved a sweet (if precocious) dog like Pavlov, who will surely miss her master, as will his many, many friends.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s