DanMargarita.com

After almost fifteen years of faithful companionship, Stoneham's best known and most beloved dog Root Beer is now in doggie heaven.

Age and infirmity had slowed her down considerably and she was no longer enjoying her life, so with a heavy heart I took her to the veterinarian's where I said a tearful goodbye. Yup, I readily admit that I bawled like Siegfried at Roy's bedside.

Root Beer was the sister of Peller, owned by the vet who had treated our previous dogs. My father went to get a new dog and was taken to see a litter of new yellow labs. One little pup ran over to him and he said "You're my dog."

Then, in his capacity as Equipment Manager at Stoneham High School, he brought the dog to S.H.S. and announced a contest in which students would submit names for the dog. "Root Beer" was unique and somewhat fitting, as her coat did resemble the color of a head on a glass of root beer. OK, I wasn't crazy about the name and tried to call her "R.B." for a while, but it didn't stick.

Still, my father and Root Beer became fixtures at Stoneham High sporting events, and were known throughout the Middlesex League. One sport he would never take her to was gymnastics since it is a sport that requires audience silence. My father didn't want to be responsible for a girl messing up a dismount because Root Beer picked a rare time to bark.

Basketball games often saw Root Beer and Dad's presence. She slightly embarrassed Dad one game when she snuck away from him and went trotting down the sideline in front of the player's bench forcing the referees to blow the whistle and stop play. Dad did proudly admit that she never actually went on the court, though.

While hopefully avoiding getting into a hackneyed comedian's bit, in my opinion a dog's love is unconditional and undying. You walk in the door and your little pal trots around the corner with her tail wagging. She's always happy to see you. You know this because her tail will wag. I don't think a dog can "fake it," and thus dogs are inherently honest.

A dog never claims that you're not "meeting its needs." If you feed it, let it out on occasion and show it some attention, you're meeting its needs.

The only thing about a dog that bothers me is that they have no manners. When you're all trying to get in out of the rain, the dog is always the first one in the door as soon as it opens. It never crosses a dog's mind to say "after you."

Everyone thinks his or her pet is the smartest and I'm no exception. One of my father's favorite tricks was to ask Root Beer "How much is one plus one?"

That was Root Beer's cue to bark twice. If only Dad had worked that hard with me on my math skills...

After the deed was done I was able to get some solace in the Red Sox exciting win over the Yankees in Game 6 of the American League playoffs.

Of course the next night the Red Sox lost the pennant with another historically monumental screw up and did not win the World Series for the 85th straight year.

In dog years, Root Beer lived to be 98 years old.

At least in dog years she would've gotten to see the Red Sox win a World Series.

So long, pal.