After the loss of my beloved Bear my nearly as beloved Melba Toast was my only dog. I knew her time was not far behind Bear's, and so we took one last trip to the Redwoods together. Upon returning, I started looking for another rescue to adopt. After several close calls and near misses, I discovered a 50 lb Aussie at a high kill shelter. We arranged her transport to Seattle so we could see if she was a good fit. Three days after her arrival, I took her (and Melba Toast) camping over Labor Day weekend. As I sat with friends around the campfire with Melba loving, as usual, from a distance, Jazz sat as close to me as possible. She then looked up into my eyes and climbed into my lap, all 50 lbs. This would be the Jazz I knew for the rest of her life. Slightly needy, but loving and sweet beyond measure, full of affection and love. Although originally to be my son's dog (Melba Toast was my dog) Jazz soon attached to me. It's strange how dogs choose their person, and the bond that forms quickly is impossible to break. For the next four years, my Jazz refused to be far from my side. She maddened me by tripping me countless times by always being so close, but my anger would evaporate when she would look up lovingly into my eyes. For an Aussie, Jazz had oddly no herding instinct, and apparently rather limited intelligence, but she more than made up for that with unbounded sweetness and affection. She was a big silly dog who allowed us to put glasses on her and many other things, always suffering these indignities with cheer and love, apparently so thrilled to be part of the gang. At that first camping trip, I told my friends we were trying Jazz out and had not yet decided whether to adopt her. Several friends immediately offered to take her if we declined. Such was the effect that Jazz had on total strangers. One Sunday afternoon as I got ready for a Mariners game, I heard Jazz barking. She stopped suddenly and when I looked, she was laying on the floor in an apparent seizure. I sat with her stroking her fur and softly comforting her as the movements slowed and stopped. She was gone. Not a seizure, but apparently a heart attack had taken sweet Jazz after only four years in our lives. As a rescue, we didn't know how old she was and she was showing grey, but the shock of her sudden passing was terrible. My Shiba Inu who was raised by Jazz, and who adored her, came over, sniffed and nudge the still Jazz after her attack, licked her once, then went and sat near her, sadly staring at her fallen best friend. All of my dogs are not just part of my family, they are cherished best friends. But of all my wonderful dogs, Jazz was the sweetest, and that big, dumb Aussie is sadly missed every day.