Smut

SMUT

They named him that because he was as black as soot, or as our Daddy called it, smut.  I prefer to spell it S'mutt, but I didn't name him and he wasn't my dog.  

I realize that's also a term for a sort of "adult entertainment" but this blog has nothing to do with that.  This is about a dog and his human who just so happens to be my brother.

Originally his son's dog, he ended up staying when the son moved out.  Smut called him "Granddaddy" and loved him beyond measure. 

Because my brother inherited our paternal grandparent's home and he loves being in the big woods, he spends most of his time there.  I blogged about his slice of heaven on New Year's Day and you can read about it by clicking here. 

For 13 years, Smut lived a charmed life.  His "Granddaddy" entertained him, cooked for him, took him swimming, sang to him, took him for long rides in his truck.

And above all, loved him with everything he had.

Until...

He died on a Saturday, unexpectedly, only a few days ago. 

I hate to think of my brother being in the woods without him now.  Surely there are traces of him everywhere and those woods just got a lot bigger. 

So I'll just say this to him: 

I wish every dog had a master like you to give them the life they deserve.  A life like Smut had.

That hole you've got in your heart right now won't ever fill in completely because that's the part he took with him when he left you.  It stops hurting so much after a while though.

I bet there's a giant fan in heaven that God turns on for him to lay in front of.

He would want you to be happy and know that you'll see him again one day when it's your turn to lay in front of that fan.

Smut was such a good boy, Clint.

And so are you.