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Adam |
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In Memoriam "The more beautiful and complete the memory, the harder the separation.
Adam Taylor was born October 26, 1995 in Stacy, Minnesota, USA, where he was bred by Linda Dowdy (whom he affectionately calls Grandma) and Sharon Scholl. He died in his own home near Ottawa, Ontario on January 21, 2008. His absence has left a huge hole in our hearts and in our home. Adam was a gentle, sweet, and utterly loving soul. He possessed an incredible zest for life and his enthusiasm for every activity was boundless. It was never enough for Adam to simply let out a typical malamute "woo." He insisted on springing up on his hind legs, lifting both front paws off the floor and with his muzzle lifted high he sang to the heavens. As a pup in obedience class, he was so excited about the "down" command that he leaped off the ground, threw his front legs in front of his body and dived to the floor with a joyful plop. I have never known a happier spirit than his. As a young dog, Adam had an interesting habit of collecting things. He never chewed them, he just "collected" them, usually stockpiling them in an empty dog crate. Of particular intrigue to Adam were gardening and office supplies, including seed packets, post it notes, pens, small calculators, etc. This hobby of Adam's has led some to surmise that he ran a mail order veggie growing business and employed countless other dogs and cats in his entrepreneurial ventures. Living the first half of his life in a "hard-core" neighborhood in the inner city, Adam was quick to build bridges between his owner and the people who are most often forgotten or avoided in our society. Near our home was an overpass to an Interstate freeway. The property was separated from the neighboring street by a chain-link fence, and some of the city's homeless persons would sleep at night under the bridge there. In our early morning walks, we would pass these people as they came through the fence to live another day on the street. While most humans avoided them, Adam never did. He was always eager for a pet or a hug and greeted these people with the same friendly enthusiasm he offered for everyone else. I never feared to walk past that overpass at night, because Adam's friends looked out for "Adam's mom." We moved from the inner city to rural Ontario in August of 2002, building our home on a wooded acreage that is as far removed from inner city life as you get. Adam loved his new "dad" from the beginning, and he and Adrian bonded immediately. In his senior years, he liked nothing more than when Adrian would play with Adam and his many, many, toys. Adam always loved toys - especially ones that made interesting sounds and squeaks. I could never pass a pet store without checking out whether there was something new he might enjoy. He loved to carry a toy to the door when he went outside. He'd drop it just inside and pick it up when he came in again. One of Adam's most endearing habits was his love of the telephone. He had learned the art of conversation from Kierkegaard, a fifty pound lab / shepherd mix who was his mentor and best friend when he first came to live with me. Kierk often spoke with my dad over the phone and Adam picked up the habit. Sometimes it was impossible to hold a conversation, because Adam believed each call was for him. It would make him so happy when I held the receiver where he could hear a human voice calling him by name and asking him how his day had been. Before we joined Adrian in Ontario, Adam would even speak with malamute Chief over the phone! Of all the time I spent with Adam, I will treasure most the walks we took in the last year of his life. Arthritis, resulting from his numerous knee surgeries, took its toll as he aged, and the time came when it was a rare treat that we made it all the way to the bottom of our quarter mile laneway and back again. Those walks went so much more slowly than the marathon jogs of his early years. The goal, back then, was to wear him out and keep him out of trouble! But in his last year, the goal was simply to savor the time we had left. He took his leisure, forcing me to gracefully accept my own, and delighting in every sight and smell and sound of the incredible world around us. Every now and then, he would look up in my eyes with that lovely, loving face and lean against my leg for a hug. He was so happy, sharing those peaceful strolls when it was just the two of us doing something remarkably simple, yet utterly profound. No tribute to Adam would be complete without mention of his cats. Raised with cats, and carefully conditioned to never, never, never chase them, Adam was one of those rare and wonderful malamutes who lived very happily and safely with feline friends. Adam LOVED his cats! In the last very difficult days of his life, as I prepared painfully to let him go, I was comforted by the presence of Adam's favorite cat, Ambrose, snuggled close to Adam in the bed where he lay. In his last hour, Ambrose was near, as were Adrian and I and our wonderful veterinarian, Nancy Caven, and her technician, Cathy. The house is horribly empty without Adam's sweet and enthusiastic presence, and to be honest, I don't think that either one of us humans is doing all that well. As usual, it is our four legged friends who help most to put this all in perspective. As a Lutheran pastor, I have conducted countless funeral services. A refrain from a funeral liturgy that I like most goes like this: Yet even at the grave, we make our song, "Alleluia." It is so easy to see these days solely through the lens of our loss. Yet even in the worst of moments, thankfulness brings balance to our grief. How fortunate we have been to share Adam's love and life! How much he has given us! What a gift to know that even though he is gone from our daily lives, his love and eager acceptance, as well as the lessons he taught, will be with us always! And what a blessing it will be to see his eager, happy face, on the day when we, too, pass from this world to the adventure yet to come. Good-bye, Adam. Be a good boy and guard God's house. I love you, Adam.
Listen to Adam. Listen to one of the audio files below. If you don't know which format is suitable for your computer, consult this page.
Read Adam's blog including his memoirs written days before he left us. |
Make a move to Melanchthon's page.
