Under threatening skies on this warm late summer evening my wife/photographer, my 8 year old lab/shepherd mix, and I marched to the park about a half block away carrying a spade, a Blue Holly bush and a white bucket full of water. We found a perfect spot for the holly in a secluded area of the park that is landscaped with lots of native trees and perennials. After planting and watering the bush we had time to spare and milled about trying not to look suspicious.
As the first sprinkles of rain began to fall I raised the squeak toy to the sky and at precisely 18:08 PST went onto my tiptoes next to the holly and sent a piercing squeak up to the heavens. Surely some of the children and parents at the park wondered what we were doing tucked away in the bushes squeaking a dog toy and taking pictures, but to hell with them! This was for Gibson, Gibson and Gibson. This was for all Gibsons who are not lame. This was for tall dogs and tall people and the environment. This was for air — sweet, sweet air like the stuff that we breathe.
And then, in a flash, we were gone leaving the bright plastic squeaky toy next to the newly planted holly.
Somewhere a gigantic Great Dane is slobbering.
Excellent work. A fitting memorial to Gibson. Congratulations.
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