Trout was your independent thinking type of hound. Felt like the first 2 or so years he lived with me, he saw me as his butler. He snubbed my friends and family. Generally, he didn’t have much use for people as a whole. Took him through tons of classes trying to form a bond with him. Each day I swooned over him, planting loud kisses on his head, lavished him with adorning praise. Trout’s unmistaken, responding ‘look’ at me was “oh gees, for Pete’s sake, get a life!” Kept at it anyway. One day, maybe 3 years into our ‘relationship’, I was bent over tying my shoes. He appeared from nowhere, licked my nose and took off tail a wagging. For the next 4 ˝ years we both started paying a lot more attention. He knew what I wanted. He clearly communicated to me what he needed. The trust between us grew. It was tangible. When he developed a myriad of illnesses about 3-4 years ago I was attuned to him more than ever. I became his mouthpiece at the many vets we saw. Respect for the hound he was, aiming for his best quality of life were my driving forces. So, last Monday night I brought him home from the vet, where he hated to be, after his 4th bout of pneumonia. When he saw me at the practice, he wagged his tail. He was weak. He struggled up the stairs to my place. Inside he made a bee-line for his favorite spot, the couch. He passed, at home, later that night, during the early morning hours. Trout was surrounded by the two females who loved him most, me and my bloodhound Punch. I’m so grateful I got to know Trout. I’ll be ever appreciative for how hard he made me work to gain his trust. He left me a wiser person because he came into my life.
Trout's Happy Ending Page