It was 9:30 p.m. on July 9, 2012. I was at Marin Humane, about to process a feral cat I trapped, when at the same time, an officer was carrying in an 18-month-old frightened fawn with white corgi mix. I immediately stopped and yelled, “Wait! Who is that?” And that, my friends, is how I met my dog, Skip.

Now don’t get me wrong; I knew the moment I saw Skip, he was meant to be mine; he simply had to be. Thus began our wonderful 13-year relationship. If you read my posts, you’re aware I’ve had a few pets in my day, but there was something unique about this one. Maybe it was those big brown eyes and his laid-back demeanor. He was a go-with-the-flow type; in other words, perfect for me.

Now that I think of it, Skip’s gait was probably the clincher for me. That little stubby-legged corgi didn’t simply walk; he pranced like those high-stepping parade horses. I couldn’t help but smile watching him walk.

Skip was not a runner. No, he wasn’t one to exert himself. In fact, I’m trying to recall if I ever saw him run. Hmm…let me think…nope, he never did. Oh, wait. Whenever Susan stopped by, he’d trot to the pantry (does that count?) and wait for his beloved chicken treat. He had her well-trained.

Skip wasn’t what you’d call a chummy fellow. He liked my other pets but mostly did his own thing. He was more of a watch-at-a-distance kinda guy, content to hang out with them but didn’t engage in play. Skip was what I’d call a chill dude.

While waiting for breakfast and dinner, Skip took great pleasure in sucking on his ever-present blanket; it seemed to soothe him. Consequently, I collected tons of them since he was a big sucker. Those blankets eventually became stiff as starched shirts. I bet I washed them hundreds of times.

The cutest part of Skip’s sucking tendencies was how he twitched his head side to side as though watching a tennis match, all the while seemingly in a trance until I’d yell, “Nummers, everyone!” Thus began the mad dash downstairs for breakfast, all 10 of my crew, with Skip bringing up the rear.

Longtime readers know Skip’s quirks sometimes drove me nuts, but now, as I look back, they make me smile again. That dog was endearing, and I believe he knew it. He probably milked it for the treats he so loved, and I always fell for it.

In his later years, Skip feared using the dog door, so I did lots of door opening for him. I had to coax him just to take two steps up to the porch, yet he had no issue climbing 13 stairs to go up to bed each night. Go figure.

Skip wasn’t a big barker, and I loved that about him. He was Mr. Easy Going and ate whatever I gave him, especially when I started cooking for my mutts. He also went nuts for his nightly walk. The second I’d say, “Who wants to go for a walk?“,” he’d start spinning around like one of those Lazy Susans (not to be confused with my friend, Susan).

Whenever they heard me drive up, Skip and Wally would climb onto the back of the living room sofa to watch me arrive. My homecoming was as though I’d been absent for days when I’d simply gone to the market; I already miss that sight.

I had to say so long to Skip a couple of weeks ago. His cancer had spread to the point where it was time. He knew it, and sadly, I did too. Marin Humane cremated him for me. He’s buried next to my backyard pine tree, alongside my animals who came before him. It seems they simply don’t live long enough for our liking, do they?

In memory of Skip, my dear friend, Susan gave me a beautiful rosebush named Peace because Skip is at peace now. And my sweet friend, Loretta brought me a plaque which I hung on the fence next to the pine tree.

And that, my friends, just about sums it up. So long, Skip.