February 2004 | Milo Lowry, in memoriam
1984 - 2004

At left is pictured Milo, in his prime, sometime during the late 80's or early 90's. He is in what may have been his favorite earthly place, the backyard of my childhood home in Sacramento CA, during the summer.

Like many suburban Sacramentans, we had a modestly sized backyard that was mostly swimming pool, grill, and a table and umbrella, where my dad would sit out in the evening, grilling hamburgers and reading culinary magazines.

Most likely Milo was there, sleeping on the plastic deck chairs (as in this picture), or walking in his punky, unhurried way along the thin strip of cool deck between the swimming pool and fence. If so inspired, he might slip across the fence to the neighbor's house, and then, the neighbor's roof, just to show us how easy it was.

Upon his return, he might stand by the sliding glass door in our backyard, to let my dad know that a doorman was needed to let him in the house. However, when the hint was taken, Milo was likely to sit there on the deck staring blankly at my dad, suddenly uncertain as to whether he would in fact go in, or just sit there instead, enjoying a sense of control.

In his later years, Milo retired to indoor cathood in the state of Arkansas, where wild cat-eating boars are known to roam. Or at least, large-boned, free-range hunting dogs with a tenuous sense of discipline. Although by this time, he shared his indoor Arkansan digs with two insufferable eight pound lap dogs, he still had my parents by his side, as he always had, and his former indifference and lethal way with a claw gave way to a love of sitting on laps, shoulders, and heads. He was loved until the end, which was today.

Goodbye, dear Milo.

Hey, peeps. Send mail to mail@tiny-dog.com.