"Covy Tucker Hill's Greystone" came to my good friend, Pat Marshall, at the age of 7 months. At the time of arrival, there was no indication in the paperwork as to what his call name was,
so Pat called Cappy and Gloria to find out what they had been calling him. "Well, he doesn't have a name..." was the reply. Pat wondered how a dog could get to be 7 months old, and not have a name?
The response to this was "We didn't know what to call him, so he was just "Wild Thing" while he was here.....
And so began the fun....."Ryan", as he came to be know, was a delight to behold, a beautiful dark, plush masculine dog.. one I fell in love with instantly. I spent the next 6 years trying to get him.
So, when we moved to B.C., and Pat became interested in doing Schutshund work with Malinois, it was finally decided that Ryan would come live with us... My dream come true at last in Sept, 1995!!
He never saw the inside of a kennel again.. he ruled the roost here at Shadowacre, going where he wanted, when he wanted, and sleeping in the sun.
His favorite pastime was playing fetch; with a big stick, a bucket, a lid from a paint
pail. It didn't matter to Ryan, all things were meant for throwing aand carrying. He taught many
puppies here how to enjoy this activity as much as he did, and knew that playing fetch with
puppies meant he would chase and carry a few times, but would then just run down with the pup,
let them pick up the toy and accompany them back to us. He taught them, we didn't; his sheer
delight in the play was obvious to man and beast alike!! He seemed to never tire of the game;
every night I got home from work, at midnight, I was met at the gate by Ryan,
carrying the the most readily available toy...
"Ryan" at age 9
On Sunday, Dec 29, 1997 he met us at the gate in his usual manner: big stick in his mouth,
following us down the drive wacking my shins with it, tail wagging furiously, as always.
But,it was pouring rain, and we were much too tired from shopping, so, after a brief hug and
pet, he was settled down in his big crate and fluffy blamket for the night....
Our precious Ryan bloated that night, and I found him in his crate in the morning.
Ryan now romps at the Rainbow Bridge.. his remains rest in peace in the yard he loved so much.
I am so glad I was able to give him at least a couple of years of total joy; I hope I will be able to forgive myself the pain he endoured
Sleep well, "Ry-Guy", knowing we loved you totally and completely and our lives are a much better place because you were with us.
After a While
After a while you learn
the subtle difference between
holding a hand
and chaining a soul
and you learn that love doesn't mean leaning
and company doesn't always mean security.
And you begin to learn
that kisses aren't contracts and
presents aren't promises
and you begin to accept your defeats
with your head up and your eyes ahead
with the grace of a woman
not the grief of a child.
And you learn
to build all your roads on today
because tomorrow's ground is
too uncertain for plans
and futures have a way of falling down
in mid-flight.
After a while you learn
that even sunshine burns
if you get too much.
So you plant your own garden
and decorate your own soul
instead of waiting
for someone to bring you flowers.
And you learn
that you really can endure
that you really are strong
and you really do have worth
and you learn
and you learn,
with every goodbye, you learn.
Written by Veronica Shoffstall
Dedicated to Ryan -
for everything you ever taught me about life and love
and living in the present; you never know when it will all be gone.
