Their story
My first dog. My best friend. My lifesaver.
Built for the snow, happiest at the beach,
rambunctious, caring, stubborn, and loyal,
Duke had a mind of his own
and a heart that never left my side.
From the time I was 21 until I was 31,
he was my constant companion
through the years that shaped me most.
And, true to form, Duke made his own traditions.
When we lived in Shipyard, he would sneak out on Sundays,
walk himself to the Holiday Inn,
stand proudly in front of the automatic doors
until they opened, then march straight to the dining room buffet
and wait until someone gave him a bone.
Soon enough, the call would come:
“Victor, Duke is here again.”
The bellman would have him waiting,
I’d pull up, they’d open the back door,
and Duke would hop in, full of beef, brisket,
and absolutely no remorse.
It became a routine.
The hotel loved him.
And Duke, naturally, loved the buffet.
He was wild. He was gentle.
He was independent, unforgettable,
and truly the best dog ever.
Forever loved. Forever missed. Forever Duke.
