The society of early morning dog walkers and gossipers

Where is Brownie, I found myself wondering a couple of months ago.  Brownie is a mixed breed pup of friendly character, who beats his tail on our approach.  He incites a similar reaction from my dog, and after the ritual sniff and a pet on the head proceeds to ignore us in favor of walking along with us.
Well Brownie had contracted hepatitis and was out of commission, but thankfully has made a recovery and is back on the mend.

Mack arrived this morning, a big strong American Bull Terrier, we hadn't seen him in sometime and he and his owner were doing well.  His owner is a policeman in a local town, who runs first and then walks Mack. 

Mack's owner related that one of the walking regulars had died on Sunday, he had not been seen in months, quickly consumed by a mysterious and widespread cancer only diagnosed in December.  He was 63.  He was a quiet guy who loved his motorcycles , always had a quiet greeting.  His wife is well known in the community as she grew up here and had never left, she runs  a house cleaning service from her home and serves as hostess to parties and does dog sitting and other sundry task, she also ride from stop to stop on her bike, so she is know a little bit as a local character.  But she is like Will Rogers in that she has never met a dog she did not like.  She and her husband had a thing for adopting  southern dogs.  Yup, dogs from Alabama, Arkansas, Tennessee.  Dogs of the south , aged, ancient and normally pretty laid back.  They would give them homes and love and take good care of them after whomever had dumped them at a shelter or pound.t he dogs were of the type that were strays or give aways. The dogs that families down South would give their kids to play with for the summer and ditch when school resumed in fall.  They were good dog folk.

The wife once came up my walk with a dog that was just a wee bit strange, she called it a Louisiana
Catahoula Leopard Dog,  to which I replied  Oh, yeah looks like a pure bred, as I thought  mutt in my head.   Mitch was his name, he was a nice big  ole boy.  Didn't last too long,  the current dog is Tank, looks like second base on 4 inch legs.  Tank is deaf.  Tank can be ornery to dogs that get in his face, my dog is aloof so they get on fine.  Pumpkin was her favorite, she would start walking and forget where she was and would then have to be pulled home. where she would promptly remember that she was going for a walk and have to be taken again.  Yeah, these southern dogs all have that odd ball look about them to match a certain slow drawl of a personality.   But this couple loved their dogs.

I have been hoping to see her, but have not,  I just wanted to say Sorry, and that is all I will say.
She had been telling me the story of new experimental chemo , just around the corner, just next week, if only they could get him scheduled, if only he did not have a fever, if only he could keep food down.  I knew it for what it was, it was grasping at a puff of smoke.  Somehow, I knew from day one
that it was not going to be.  The chemo was administered  too late, but as in all things experimental
the outcome was not assured.

But all I will be able to say is Sorry, nothing more or less, she would accept the minimalist approach to sympathy, she will not abide the profusion of regrets or expressions of sorrow.  That is the way of the walkers of dogs at 6 AM, they know each other and watch for each other and know when one is hurting or sick.  They also know not to be pouring on the syrup. 

You miss the ones you started on the journey with way back when.  We will miss him.