Thank you so much, everyone, for these beautiful posts. These times are very difficult for my wife Cindy and me, but your thoughts greatly help us in the struggle to live past the ache in our hearts. You are very thoughtful, Kevin, to start this topic. Thank you.
Tuckerman was a Plott Hound mix, and a rescue. We got him as a four-month-old puppy in January 2009 after he and his brother were found abandoned in a Virginia forest. He climbed his first NH 4K, North Kinsman, in March of that year, and at the time of his death he had climbed 36 of the 48 peaks. But peaks were never really his thing, frankly. Tuck's idea of the perfect hike involved a trail with as much mud and as many sticks and as much moose poop as possible that led to a nice big pond so he could jump in. We took quite a few of those hikes, too, over the past couple of years.
He died in my arms a half-hour after being struck by a truck in the early-morning darkness. The driver, a local, was as distraught as I was. I'm sorry he has to drive by that same spot every day on his way to work.
We still have beautiful Polly, whom many of you know, our Great Pyr mix (also a rescue). Polly and I will now complete Tuckerman's set of 48 4Ks, either this year or next, to honor him as well as her (she has 33 of the 48 peaks at this writing). In her way, she's as devastated as us at Tuck's sudden, tragic death -- she's a protection dog, and she continues to look for her canine companion; it's heartbreaking. But she will, with a little trail therapy, slowly return to something like normal, as will we. Right now it feels like that's going to take years, and perhaps it will.
Tuckerman was named for Tuckerman's Ravine, as you might've already guessed. (When we named him we thought we were so clever. Turns out Tuckerman and its variants are just about the most popular dog names in New Hampshire.) Now there will be Tuckerman's Farm, which we're naming some acreage that Cindy and I own in Dorchester, NH, and where we'll move from Franconia next summer. Tuck loved roaming that land and forest and jumping in the south branch of the Baker River, which borders the property. We want all our dogs (there will be more, in time) to have a connection, however slight, to our first dog.
Tuckerman lived for hiking in the White Mountains. Snow, ice, frost, rock, biting winds -- he was undaunted by any of them. Somewhat legendarily, on one hike he climbed straight up The Chimney on Mt. Osceola as if it were just another easy scramble, and the only time I ever saw him waver was once on the Dry River Trail when the river was fast, noisy, and waist-deep at an upper crossing. Still, he made it. He was the best dog I ever hiked with, and I still cannot believe that I won't be hiking with him ever again.
Next spring, after the snow melts, we will take some of Tuckerman's ashes and spread them at the summit of North Kinsman. I'll be sure an announcement gets made. Tuck absolutely loved group hikes, and he would want everyone to have a good time together, as many dogs as possible included, as we say farewell to a wonderful, joyous dog.
Cindy and I both take a bit of comfort in the fact that neither of us has a single regret where Tuckerman is concerned, even though he left us so young. We were privileged to rescue him and give him a wonderful dog's life, full of the outdoors and animal and human company. He was funny, mischievous and got into lots of trouble -- he enjoyed life spectacularly. He was boundlessly happy and playful. If he could have, he would have laughed out loud all the time and told a lot of very funny jokes. Polly is a different sort: for her, life is duty, life is a responsibility to protect her family -- in other words, she's a Lutheran dog. Tuck, on the other hand, was a Buddhist, dedicated fully to the present moment. He lived as an example of how we all ought to accept and fulfill our lives -- with joy and happiness, with zest and play, with unconditional love and tenderness for his animal and human companions. Trying to meet Tuckerman's very high bar for life will be the project of Cindy's and my lives for the rest of our days. We dearly, painfully wish he could have spent many more years with us, but the nearly three years we had with him will do. We are better beings for having had Tuckerman in our lives and in our household. Now comes our responsibility to measure up from here on out.
There's a belief that all emotions are mirrors. If that's true, the very deep pain Cindy and I feel now (we're still pretty weepy) reflects the very deep love we had, and still have, for Tuck. But really, it was all his doing. He loved us so unconditionally, so faithfully and loyally, so unabashedly, that we would be guilty of neglect not to give all that love right back to him. Neither of us knew we had it in ourselves, but Tuckerman -- as always, just like on the trail -- was out front, showing us the way.
Thank you for being such wonderful friends -- you and your dogs -- to our Tuckerman during his great, brief life.
