Prince came into my life when I was badly in need of a pet, although I think he was more aware of the need than I was. That would explain the great excitement he showed the day my first wife and I picked him up from a family who wanted to give him away because he was too much trouble for them. I was looking for a family dog but after my wife and I separated and later divorced, he just became my dog. After 14 1/2 years with me, I can only look back with amazement on the fact that anyone would want to give this great little guy away. During all that time he never wavered in his love, loyalty, and devotion, or in his constant efforts to do (or at least try to do) what was expected of him. Whatever turmoil or emotional heartache I was going through I always knew Prince would be waiting at home with great excitement and a deep resorvoir of affection, wanting in exchange only some food and attention and a walk around the neighborhood, a run to the beach, or a few tosses of a ball. And when I finally found Lynnette he even accepted the presence of a cat in our lives without complaint.

Prince was a purebred Sheltie with such a prancing walk, and such a quick response to commands, that he probably would have made a good show dog, but I wasn't interested in that. And boy could he run. He was just like a streak one foot off the ground. When Lynnette and I would take him to the beach he would head for the waves at such a speed that we could tell which direction he went by the way that all the people turned their heads.

Prince would chase any small animal that would run from him but he would never hurt anything; he only wanted some herding practice. I think the proudest moment of his life was when we encountered some cows in a field on one of our hikes, and before I could stop him he was among them, nipping at their heels, running between their legs, and getting them all moving in one direction. Then he trotted back to me, as excited as I ever saw him, as if to say, "see, Dad, what I can do." But usually he had to settle for more pedestrian subjects, like when he would spend the whole day running up and down the beach trying to herd the waves.

Prince and I had many adventures. We travelled to Alaska together, where Prince barked at a bear and I saved him after he slipped down a bank into the Kenai River. We went through the Loma Prieta earthquake together at my house in Santa Cruz, California. I once had to pay ransom for someone to steal him back from some people who had kept him after the one time he got away from me and I couldn't find him (he had tremendous eyesight for a dog, and if he saw a kite or a plane in the sky, or some small animal on the ground, he would often take off after it and catching up to him could be quite an ordeal). But mostly he saved me, saved me from loneliness and depression and needing something in my life to love.

I took care of Prince for so long, until I just couldn't take care of him any longer. His body failed, his hearing was gone and his great eyesight was going too, and so I had to say goodbye. And now he won't be here to take care of me any more. I will miss him so much. I'll miss our long walks in fields and forests, when he would run up ahead and I would hide behind a tree and he would get mad because he would have to find me. I'll miss him lying by my feet when I watch TV or work on the computer. I'll miss our neighborhood walks where he would stop and check out all of his doggie friends (I think I knew more dog's names than people's). Most of all I will miss seeing his little face behind our gate where he would stand for as long as it took for me to come home, when Lynnette would let him out to wait for me. But I imagine he is now waiting for me behind the gates of heaven, waiting as long as it takes.