Rain

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Rain

We lost our sweet Rain in September of 2006. He was only eight and a half, but his body just couldn't keep going. I still cry when I think about him. There was something special about this dog. Even people who don't love dogs liked him. I really, really miss him.

These photos are a conglomerate -- some I took, some our friend Julie, no particular order to them.

	Didn't he have a sweet face?
	It's hard to believe, looking at this picture that his structure was faulty. He was, despite his arthritis, a beautiful mover.
	Rain in the leaves in the woods behind our house.
	Rain out in the pasture. You can kind of see the cowlick in the center of the top of his head. It was a long, unruly bit of fur that I refused to let groomers cut, because it gave him such character. More than once I came into a grooming shop to pick him up and found the groomer either playing with bows in his cowlick or just arranging it differently and snapping photos. My favorite was the Elvis look.
	Peeking out from behind some ferns.
	Another close-up of his face.
	He loved this blue ball. He would hold it and drool on it, until the floor around him was a puddle. He loved to retrieve! He was, in fact, a better retriever than Pax, the, uh, retriever.
	A portrait of Rain and Pax. They got along famously. Great friends!
	Rain was a Tugger with a capital T. He tugged only as hard as necessary to win, and he wouldn't give up. He could tug gently with a young puppy, or he could put his heart and soul into it with a grown man. But he didn't quit, and he didn't lose!