I have heard people say, “He was just a dog.” I try to tell myself that's true in the hopes that the hurt will go away but deep in my heart I know that particular statement is not true. Eddie was a dog; that is true. But he was so much more than just a dog. Eddie was my partner. And he was my friend.

As a child, I never had pets with the exception to a couple of goldfish and two gerbils that my brother and I snuck into the house, unbeknownst to my dad. They eventually died, but I had no real attachment to them. Sometimes I question if my parents were trying to protect me from the pain of losing a pet.

It was unavoidable getting attached to Eddie. I can hear my wife, Jackie’s words now. “I’ve never seen such a dog.” I have never known an animal to show emotion until Eddie came along. Eddie was capable of showing love, sadness, pride, happiness, anger, sorrow, jealousy and devotion. He was incredible. The memories come flooding back like they all happened yesterday.

When Eddie had to work, he only wanted to do one thing. That one thing was to please his handler. Sure, he thought he was playing, but you could see the look on his face when he found what he was looking for. He knew that it was time to “play” after he showed his handler what he had found. He would usually beat me to the door when it was time to go to work. He would train hard and then limp around after giving it his all. He was not one to give up and I think I realized it before he did that his career had ended.

Eddie was totally devoted to me. When he no longer came to work with me he would lay in front of the bathroom door while I showered. Many times when I would leave the house, he laid at the back door waiting for my return, or he’d mope around the house letting out long, exaggerated sighs. Jackie would always tattle on him when he would pout while I was gone. You would never guess that he had been like that, however, because his tail would never stop when I came home. Sometimes I felt that a strike from his tail could be lethal if he smacked you with it. He’d been gone almost a month and I still expected to hear that tail thumping the floor when I came home and opened the back door.

Eddie would try to cheer me up when I had a bad day. More than once when I cried, I would feel his cold, wet nose pushing my hands away from my face so that he could nuzzle up to me and let me hug him. He knew when I was hurting and was always there when I needed him.

He was a protector. I never had to worry about my family because I knew Eddie was with them and would not let anything happen to them. Once, while we slept, Eddie was startled awake by a noise in the house. He charged into the living room with teeth bared, the hair on his back standing up, and a growl that would scare you to death. He thought someone was there with bad intentions. After he learned it was a family member, he returned to his bed and like a sentry guarding his post, stood watch to protect us. Another time our grandson was playing in the backyard and the neighbor’s dog came to the fence and began barking. She only wanted attention and was curious about the little person in our yard, but Eddie did not see it that way. He charged to the fence from across the yard and stood, chest puffed out, standing guard between the fence and our grandson.

It seems funny that he would be so protecting of those little children, because he could be so jealous of them. If the visited and one of them happened to be sitting on my lap, he would sit in front of me with this pitiful look on his face, like he was waiting for it to be his turn. After all, he did think he was a lap dog. If you can, try to imagine an eighty pound dog climbing onto your lap while you’re sitting in a recliner. I used to laugh at him when he would try and sleep with his body in the recliner with me, and his back feet on the floor. He could only take so much of that before he would doze off and his back legs would give out and wake him up. This would happen four or five times and then he would eventually give up and lie down on the floor to finish his nap.

Eddie also had a mischievous side. When he thought that he should be the center of attention and wasn’t getting it, he would go pick something up that didn’t belong to him and carry it around until he was noticed. Then, as you scolded him, his eyes would go all squinty and I would swear he had a smirk on his face. It was almost as if he were saying, “See, I knew I could get your attention.” But I remember the ultimate thievery. Eddie swiped a French Silk pie from the kitchen counter. Have you ever seen a dog with a whipped cream mustache trying to act like he did nothing wrong? Jackie was pretty upset, but I know she would sacrifice a thousand pies to have our Eddie Bear back.

Eddie and I had a bond that was unbreakable. He trusted me and I trusted him.

I taught him to swim and he trusted me enough to do it. He was so leery of the water at first but wanted badly to be in the pool with us. He just could overcome that initial fear. So one day, I scooped him up and put him in the water. I lead him around the pool with my arms under his belly as he mastered the dog paddle. He even learned how to swim to the steps and exit the pool on his own. He loved to dive in after someone when they went down the slide. I sometimes wonder if he thought he was in a big water dish because he loved to swim around and drink the water at the same time. It’s funny to think that he was afraid of the water at first but after a couple of times swimming, we couldn’t keep him out of the pool.

As I said, I trusted Eddie. People are apprehensive with big dogs, but I knew Eddie wouldn’t hurt anyone. I watched a child step on his tail one day as were waiting in the school’s hallway for a D.A.R.E. presentation. The children were changing classes and of course, every one of them had to pet Eddie as they walked by. One boy inadvertently stepped on his tail, and Eddie just casually turned his head and looked at him as if saying, “Excuse me but you are on my tail!” I’ve watched our grandchildren and nephews climb on him like was a jungle gym, pull his ears and tail and use him as a pillow. Not once did he lash out at them or move away from them. He did pay them back occasionally, however, with a big, sloppy kiss.

Eddie was a fighter. Cancer first appeared in the form of a large knot above his right eye. It was diagnosed as a mast cell tumor. After surgery to remove the tumor, I held him as he slept off the anesthesia, both of us in the recliner. He now had a scar where his eyebrow had once been. I was scared for him…for us. I could not imagine a life without him but at the same time, did not want him to suffer. Prognosis was good and for a couple of years we had our Eddie back, up to his old tricks. Another trip to the vet though for breathing difficulties told us that the cancer had come out of remission and spread to his internal organs. X-rays showed an ugly spot growing in his lungs but even into his final days, Eddie never complained. He never whimped. He just continued to wag that tail.

I could write volumes about Eddie to explain why he was more than just a dog. Maybe these words will help people understand my position; maybe not.

My only hope is that one day I will again be reunited with my partner, my friend, and we can patrol the streets together, forever.

Rest in peace, buddy…until we meet at the gates of Heaven, we of the thin blue line.