In many ways, Maestro was the soul of Symphony. He was the patriarch of our line, and passed down so many incredible attributes to his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren. Chief among those were type. What a beautiful boy he was, striking in every way that you would expect an Ibizan Hound to be. He found the love of his life when I married my husband, and for the rest of his life, the two of them were inseparable. Maestro was a gift from my dear friend and mentor, Lisa Puskas. We shared an admiration for him, and no one else loved him more than Lisa, Joe, and I. He was nothing but happiness for every second of his life. He was always so polite in his demands (so very unbeezer-like), but as a puppy he was SO NAUGHTY. I trust that he and Kalos are having the greatest time at Rainbow Bridge, and I can’t wait to join them again some day. The bestest boys ever. I made the following tribute when we lost Mighty unexpectedly due to a ruptured herniated disc playing in the yard. Only a few days before, we had been on a run together.

Mighty’s Final Run: A Tribute

Six days ago (last Saturday), I went on a run along this exact route with Mighty. He wasn’t with me today (I was alone), but it was easy enough to feel his spirit with me throughout the entire run. I felt him as I almost went to grab Honolulu for the run, but he gave me his Mighty eyes, as he always does when I take him on a run, asking, “Really? Her again? You know I can go right? I’m not THAT old!” I felt him as he whined as I drove down the driveway, his anticipation for seeing squirrel and chipmunks along the run climbing as we drove closer and closer to the path. I felt him looking for the cookies in my pocket that I always carry to take photos of the dogs before we run. He was extra sniffy today because I gave Philia more tuna in her kibble this morning than him, and somehow, he just knew! And I felt him along the run, the most agreeable beezer ever, always at the end of the lead, yet always so responsive and respectful of my pace when I wanted to slow down.

When I took this photo six days ago, I remember thinking, “Aww Mighty, we can get a better one!” His fur was a little damp and frizzy from the rain that afternoon, and I thought a different angle might be better. Of course, we tried again, and in his Mighty fashion, he gave me the best photo ever. But I would give anything in the world to take 1000 more “bad” photos of him again. Because now I see clearly that they’re all the best in my heart. I’m gonna miss you, baby. So much, my seal boy, my Mighty Moo. You were just the bestest boy.

So, even though Maestro wasn’t physically here with me today, this is his actual final run with me. He and Kalos gave me so many years along the path. Philia, too. And now, their journey with me is giving way to the next generation.