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Memorial Created By Erik Hoff
On 07/31/09
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Shiloh-Best of All Possible
Some individuals change your life from the moment you meet. That’s how it was that mild January day in 1994 when I met my wonder-dog, Shiloh. Since then, he was my constant companion, confidant, an intrepid explorer, best friend; service dog, employee, medical equipment; my reason for getting up in the morning and the finest person I’ve ever known.
Growing up with mobility impairment and everything that goes with it, I’m used to children, small animals and some adults reacting to me in fear. Shiloh never did. In fact, he walked from the car to my house under my wheelchair the day I brought him home. Even at 8-weeks he was the perfect companion animal he knew I needed.
Shiloh grew and progressed quickly in training, excelling in mobilization and agility. What I remember most of our first weeks and months together is how instantly and completely empathetic we were toward each other, how much we ‘got’ each other. Friends and family observed that rather than being my dog, I was ‘his human’.
Among his many accomplishments are the canine good citizen award, the excellence in service and agility award from his trainer, being a smash hit and the center of attention everywhere he went and, tolerating me all these years.
From the day he received his certification, with a few exceptions for which I owe certain friends dearly, he went everywhere with me but surgery. He’d ridden on every common mode of transport (cars, planes, trains and boats) as a passenger, never cargo. Traveled to dozens of places, foreign and domestic, no other dog has been. He camped under the stars and slept in 5-star hotels, saw Broadway plays and rock concerts, dined with the rich and famous and snarfed hot dogs off the grass at college football games. He loved most music except for heavy metal and disco, but he especially liked the Jeopardy think music because it signaled time for his evening walk.
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Even when I couldn’t count on my own body, I could count on Shiloh. He was always there to cheer me up, sometimes pick me up (figuratively and literally) and occasionally drag me home, when I couldn’t make it on my own. Loving to and loved by all humans, most dogs and even a few cats, Shiloh knew the affection of mongrels and purebreds, artists and business people, liberals and conservatives, commoners and aristocrats, and all form of fine reprobates. He was a true egalitarian. Scientists, scholars and government officials marveled at him. If he had one fault, it’s that he couldn’t stand living on the same planet as squirrels and chased them every chance he had. He received better service at most venues than I did, a tongue-out smile and a wag of the tail was his key to the universe. He impressed everyone with his beauty, smarts and the easy way he negotiated inaccessible terrain and while I’m bragging, let me say that he may have drawn a bigger crowd than Jimmy Buffett did the year we attended Jazz Fest.
Shiloh’s death leaves such a void in my life. I don’t know how I will do simple things like pick up dropped keys or make it across uneven pavement much less how I will live the rest of my life without him by my side. But as I sit here, his passing so fresh, I’m not interested in grieving. I want to celebrate the many years I had the privilege to know him, all the places we went and experiences we shared. I want to remember the simple lessons of enjoying a moment, the satisfaction in having a job you love to do each day and doing it well; how important integrity, honesty, having a good time and a good pee are to happiness in life.
I hope that I was a good human to him, he was the best of all possible dogs to me and I would not have lived, certainly not as well, these past 15 years without him.
He is survived by Erik & Leslie – his humans, Reilly – his canine intrepid hunter pal and Sophie – the frisky fickle feline who absolutely adored him.
Photos by April Rieff
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