Brigadoon Sable Prince


That's right, I'm memorializing a dog. Not just any dog, though. Redboy was like a brother to me. You see, Redboy and I were the same age, and we grew up together. Admittedly, being a dog, he grew up a lot faster, but that just meant that by the time of my first memories of him, he was already old enough to be my companion, protector, and security blanket.

My parents told me that Redboy was a Grand National Champion, and that he was their prize stud. That didn't matter to me, though. All I cared about was that Redboy was always with me, always watching out for me, and always ready to join me in whatever harebrained adventures I had cooked up, from going out my bedroom window onto the roof of the kitchen so we could see the stars more easily, to following the fenceline out to the woods behind our farm. No matter what, Redboy was always there with me, except for the short times when we lived somewhere that didn't allow dogs. Luckily, those were short times, because Redboy could no more stand being away from me than I could stand being away from him.

Redboy finally left me for good in 1970, when he died of some rare pancreatic condition (so rare that the vet had only ever seen it in vet school textbooks) that took him about a week after the first symptoms appeared. I was heartbroken when I heard the news. I still miss him, after all these years. If there was ever an argument for animals being with their humans after death, Redboy is that argument, as far as I'm concerned.

William G. Hartwell


October 23, 2009
The Church of Kelemvor's home on the web is now live.