Editor:

This is a tribute to a friend – a picture of unconditional love.

With one quick leap Brock, a Siberian Husky, jumped on this man’s bed at a rehab center and stretched out beside him. He’s never jumped on a bed while serving as a therapy dog. The comatose man slowly moved his hand and feeling the dog hair, smiled. This was his first conscious sign of his new life. Fortunately his parents saw that first smile. They formerly raised Siberian huskies. Did Brock sense this man’s need?

With one quick jump from the back seat, Brock raced around the car and up to an out-of-state vehicle. The woman got out, fell on her knees and hugged Brock. With tears streaming down, she explained how the previous day they had put their Siberian to sleep. Did Brock sense their sorrow?

Brock made a difference in so many lives. He was a Kennebunk Beach greeter, making many visitors feel welcome. He loved to ride and walk and run and sniff and follow after trucks and friends who just might have a treat for him; he loved life and lived it to its fullness.

The day came when he walked less, and lost weight fairly rapidly. His after-lunch break was much shorter now. The veterinary doctor explained his worsening kidney condition and low blood count.

That night he could only make it to the breezeway; being lifted there. He spent the night on the rugs. I spent time each hour giving pats and hugs and expressing my appreciation for his love and companionship, and offering prayers for God’s will.

The next morning, with help he settled into the back seat for his usual ride to the beach and breakfast. He couldn’t get up to walk. He didn’t move for his friends, who brought the usual treats, which he couldn’t any longer eat. He drank cold water from a prone position.

Later the doctor lifted him gently from the seat, carried him into a private examining room where we said our final “good-byes” and sent him on his journey with kisses.

We’ll never be the same. Unconditional love is such a wonderful thing. When we walked out of the shelter over eight years ago, we little realized the joy he would bring to so many of us. That first day at home, he broke his rope and raced off free! About a half-hour later, after our frantic search, he came walking over with our neighbors, as if to say: “You thought you chose me! Actually, I chose you!”

Today I think of Brock as running the beaches of the world: enjoying his new life to its fullness.

“Good-bye Brock! You were a wonderful friend.”

Jim King

Kennebunk