This is Oreo. The picture's a few years old now, but he was never one for posing for photos, so it's the best one.
He was a good boy, adopted from the humane society. When we adopted him the people who worked there said we were lucky. He'd just had a bath and a haircut and was much much prettier now than when he'd come in.
He was a good boy. He went camping with us on more than one occasion. He got nervous about getting into the car, but once we got started he was good to go. Everyone loved him, he was so well behaved and pretty.
He liked to chase the cat, and chase Bandit. He liked to try to steal pillows and blankets to sleep on, to add to his bed. He wasn't much for toys, but the ones he liked he loved to pieces.
We were never sure how old he was. Estimates ranged from fifteen all the way up to nearly twenty. He's been a part of my life for over half of it; it's hard to remember easily a time without him. He was such a good boy, even up to the end.
He went quietly this afternoon, at home with us nearby. He was a good boy, and I'll miss him dearly.
Rest easy, O-boy.
