January 2, 1986- February 17, l997

There was a black and white little boy puppy. He was born one winter and needed a good home. It was meant to be that he was adopted by a kind lady with a good heart and warm soul. Her name was Tad. She picked a fine name for the dear little guy. She named him Hawkeye.

She love him. She fed him. She nurtured him. And what she got was a best friend.

He grew and grew and became a very handsome dog.

They formed quite a partnership and shared a strong bond that could be broken by no other.

They lived in the cold of the east and the warmth of the southwest. He faithfully joined his master each step of the way on their journey through life.

He knew cowboys and cowgirls and loved the rodeos. He watched the stars and the sun and the moon. He laid in the grass and he dreamt and he played.

He patiently waited and watched while his master's mark was made.

Her beautiful artwork provided a life for them. And her livlihood was such that they could spend quality time together. Who could ask for anything better?

He watched her plant flowers and work on their place. There were many walks and fun bicycle rides. They laughed, they loved and sometimes cried.

He love his flying abhuhls and couldn't wait to play catch.

And share his beloved Tad with Mark, yes he did.

One day a sadness took place. Little puppies were found--they had no home. They needed help or surely they would die. Oh, what to do? They gave her a try. Little Rags gratefully accepted and wiggled her way into their hearts and into their lives. With Little Rags, two became three. Was there enough love to go around? Yes, indeed. They loved and they played and got to know one another. The trio bonded, again like no other.

And then one day Hawkeye tried to say something was wrong. It was not clear as his voice was not strong. The kind vet gave him some pills and bided their time. But sadly our dear Hawkeye could not get any better. All who loved him wanted to believe it not true. We all wished there was something that we could do.

He hung in there as best as he could. He played with his Abduhls and loved his mom, yes he did.

He fought and he struggled but it wasn't meant to be. Isn't it time for me to go, don't you see? It hurt so bad, but a decision was made. To her beloved friend, a well thought out farwell was bade.

His pain is now over. His precious memories remain. He can't be replaced.

Little Rags presence surely will help carry on--All the joy our Hawkeye gave from each dusk to dawn.

Hawkeye is sorely missed by Tad Cheyenne Schutt and his cousin Little Rags.

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