Miles 1998-2007

My brother had to let go of his best friend this past Saturday morning.

Miles was an absolutely awesome black Labrador that my brother has had since Miles was but a pup. With the exception of his wife and his children, my brother loved nobody more, and it did not go unrequited. Miles was perhaps THE sweetest, most well-behaved dog I have ever encountered in my entire just shy of 40 years, and that includes those I own (or have owned) myself. The namesake of the great jazz trumpeter Miles Davis, el gran perro negro was always happy. He was a gentle giant- 80 lb. of teddy bear. He was so good around kids. Between my boys, my sister’s girls, my brother’s own son and daughter, and countless other cousins, nieces, nephews, friends’ kids, neighbors’ kids, etc., there have always been kids of all ages, from newborn to teen and up, in and around my brother’s house, and Miles was good with each and every one of them.

From the day Miles came home, my brother worked with him tirelessly- training him, teaching him to sit, lie down, shake, high-five, and of course proper bathroom etiquette, or at least as proper as a dog can have. If it weren’t for not having opposable (sp.?) thumbs, Miles probably would have been able to learn how to light a candle. All of that effort was plainly visible each and every time you saw Miles.

You literally never saw Miles without a tennis ball within reach. That dog LIVED to play ball. And he was good- if only I had so few dropped balls in my baseball “career”. Didn’t matter what the weather or how tired you’d have thought he was or should have been, Miles was always ready and willing to snatch his tennis ball out of the air. Even being a lab, he was probably the most active dog I’ve ever seen.

Which made his ultimate demise that much more difficult.

Long story short, Miles had developed bone cancer in one of his legs- as my brother described it, the bone in his leg had basically turned to sponge. Miles was still the same happy dog personality-wise, but he was virtually totally non-ambulatory, and that just wasn’t “Miles”. My brother said he had to carry Miles up and down the stairs. A week ago today he was diagnosed with the cancer. As the week went on, my brother’s heart grew heavier and heavier knowing what was coming. Then this past Saturday morning, after a literally sleepless Friday night, my brother made what was likely the hardest decision of his life to this point, and had Miles put down to put an end to what would otherwise have been an excruciating, agonizing debilitation. I got the phone call at 12:30 Saturday afternoon.

People who say “it’s just a dog” either have never had a dog (or a pet of any kind) and/or have no business owning one, at least in my view. Miles wasn’t even my dog but after I hung up with my brother, I bawled. Partly out of sympathy for my brother and his family, but also because I was genuinely saddened. I’ve known Miles longer than my kids have been alive. I can’t remember Miles not being there when I visited my brother. For me not to feel the loss, especially as a “dog guy”, would be unconscionable. And also simply impossible.

Doggy Heaven’s newest member will be missed dearly. Uncle Johann bows his head in tribute. And to my brother and his family, the heavy hearts you possess are shared.

(My apologies to my brother for so unscrupulously lifting the picture. Also, I would be remiss, as a Cardinals fan, if I failed to mention the passing of pitcher Josh Hancock in a car accident shortly after midnight Sunday morning. But not to diminish that tragedy in the least, this post is about Miles.)