Farewell, partner.

To add to the challenges I've had to face this year, this week I had to put my retired dog down. Unexpected, due to an injury and infection, and something I wasn't ready for.

He was boneheaded and stubborn, more interested in play than sitting still, as happy to chew on a tree branch as a dog toy.

He loved riding in the truck, and would pout if I left for someplace without him - because he knew we were supposed to be together to do stuff.

He did the heavy lifting for the pair of us, great at doing his job and finding stuff. Because of his nose we had numerous weapons recovered from crime scenes, we kept kids and dignitaries safe at public events, and he loved every minute of it. I just had to trust him and let him work, and know when he was ready for a play break.

He never once cared about the siren when we were driving fast to a call at work - but, at the house, the slightest hint of a firetruck be heard, and he would howl until it was long out of range.

He listened to more of my rants and rambles than I could count, doing his best to get his head up by my arm, or to sneak a treat as we drove around town.

It's tough to write this. To say enough about how much I appreciated working with him. How poorly I let him know it.

I'm glad he got to spend the past few months just being a dog, playing with the kids, hanging out in the sun, running around as he wanted to. He earned it. I'm glad we got to go on one last ride together, and that I was with him at the end.