It’s been only a few days since we watched him close his eyes for the very last time. And then we heard the doctor say he was gone.

How could he be gone – this warm, wonderful, incredible canine friend who was such a large part of our life?

Morgan was not just a dog. He was our dog, our friend, and our companion. And he was part of our hearts.   He was 36 pounds of gentleness, with mostly short white hair and patches of deep tan on his back, and a tan patch over one eye. He was probably a blend Jack Russell and Bull Terrier, and perhaps 13 years old.

We’ll never know his full story. For Morgan was rescued at the Yolo Animal Shelter, more than 11 years ago, on the very day they’d scheduled him to be killed.   Someone had left him at the Shelter late one night, dumped into a cold metal bin. No tags, no note, no history. He was just a remarkably calm, quiet, obedient and smart little boy dog, desperately in need of a new home.

And he found that home with my wife, Ellie, and me.

Morgan loved to stretch out on the front porch with us in the evenings, with his front paws hanging over the edge of the top step. And oh, those paws!   Everyone walking by would comment immediately about his front paws. You see, when Morgan would lie down, he’d almost always cross one front paw over the other. Somehow he managed to look calm, regal, sophisticated and casual all at the same time.

Ellie soon had Morgan reversing his paw crossing on her command. She taught him to lie down, cross the right front paw over his left front paw, and then to quickly reverse them, crossing his left paw back over the right one. Soon she had him doing his back and forth front paw crossing, on command, to a numbered count – from one to five. Eventually, she taught him to “count” to five in English, Spanish, Italian, French and German!

Morgan also loved to sit in the sun on the back deck, on his favorite blue mat – soaking up the warm rays and quietly surveying his backyard kingdom. He’d hold his head up and pose like a lion. Sometimes he’d drift off to sleep without even putting his head down!

Inside the house, we kept a small blanket for him on both sofas, to keep some of his short, but always shedding white hair off the furniture. And he understood! If we moved a blanket or forgot to replace one when it was being cleaned, he’d stay off the sofa. But he would stand there, right next to the sofa, and look at us with sad eyes, until we would finally retrieve his blanket. Then he’d jump up immediately and curl up, contented, just where he belonged.

Whenever we watched television, he’d come up and burrow between us on the sofa, wedging himself into what looked like very awkward and uncomfortable positions. But he’d quickly doze off with his head in Ellie’s lap, with his lips curled up into what certainly looked like a contented smile on his face!

At night, we would usually read in bed for thirty minutes before putting out the lights. As soon as we opened our books, Morgan would jump up on the bed, curl up between us, and take a nap. But as soon as we started to close our books, and reach for the lights, he just seemed to know it was time for him to go to his own bed. Without a word from us, he’d jump down and head over to his own dog-bed.

Morgan was always eager to curl up on his soft, round dog-bed, just a few feet from where we slept. But every night, after five or ten minutes on his dog-bed, in the darkness we’d hear him get up, his ID tags jingling as he crossed the room. Then he’d jump onto our overstuffed chair, and curl up again for the rest of the night! He just loved that chair!

Morgan’s favorite words were “go for a walk.”   Whenever he heard that phrase, he’d madly dash to the front door, jumping almost straight up in the air, with all four paws leaving the ground.   Outside, he’d walk close by me on a short leash, with each step full of such purpose and determination. He was really serious about each walk we took together!

With Morgan gone now, we have discovered how quiet our house is.   And how we miss the sound of Morgan!   Yes, his sound. We could always hear him moving around the house. His toenails made a precise drumming sound as he walked – or ran – anywhere on the hardwood floors downstairs. And his license and identification tags on his collar would ring like gentle bells each time he would charge up or down the carpeted stairs. It’s hard for us to accept that we’ll never again hear him race down the stairwell at full speed, his four little paws never slowing down a bit, never missing a step, and never once getting tangled!

Some people will never understand the joy, love and special connection that we had with our wonderful dog. A few days ago, at a local store, while talking to a woman I know, I mentioned that I’d lost Morgan. She told me I’d quickly get over losing him, because he was just a dog.

I turned and walked away.   What could I say? She’d never understand.   But I knew she was wrong.

For Morgan was not just a dog!