There has been the passing of an era this week. Community wise, we lost Arthur Weingarden, age 101. On the family front, we lost our dog Spud after fifteen years and two months. Many people say Arthur Weingarden was a major force to be reckoned with. He certainly had a major impact on this Jewish community. When some of the members of the Jewish community decided to split from the Shaar Hashomayim and develop a Reform Temple, Arthur Weingarden donated the land for the new temple. He was a talented artist and for years his artwork graced the walls of the Reception area of Temple Beth El. So, a philanthropic era of our community has ended.

In the Goldstein household a little Cairn terrier ruled the domain. From the moment Spud came home with us from the pet store 15 years ago, he governed this family. He had issues with my husband. It was the battle of the alpha males! Though he respected my husband, he made it abundantly clear from the start, he didn't like having another dominant male around. Pooping in Will's shoes happened on more than one occasion.

I on the other hand established that I was the boss. Spuddie understood very quickly that I meant it when I gave an order. And, true to terrier form, Spuddie listened...then he decided whether or not to obey. And God help me if I had him in our front yard when a squirrel or cat went by! Before I could shout 'Toto come back!' he was chasing the darn animal all the way down the street, paying no mind to cars, trucks, bicycles etc.

But, Spud was a great dog. He loved us unequivically. We were his family. He was a great soccer goalie and his skills helped Josh become a great player. We just went through a lot of soccer balls because if he caught the ball, Spud tore around the yard, gleefully shaking the life/and or air out of the ball. He only stopped if the ball deflated or Josh got the ball back.

Spud loved wrestling with Ben and often had Ben pinned to the floor in just a few seconds with Ben howling for help. The more Ben yelled the happier Spud became.

But with Miriam and myself, he was the gentlest of dogs and was quite content to cuddle with us to our hearts' content. So long as he had been walked that day. And we're not talking those simple strolls I see other masters and their dogs take in the park. No siree. Spud and I walked at least 7-10 kilometres at a very fast pace nearly every single morning. And he jogged with William. It wasn't until he turned ten and started to become blind before he slowed the pace and walked only five kilometres.

Being a terrier, Spud was full of spunk and spirit. He thought he was a great dane in stature even though he weiged in at 25 pounds and stood all of 14 inches high. But that small build did not stop him from taking down a pit bull, doberman pinscher, and a real great Dane. Spud ruled the territory he walked in!

Spud was a hero. When the carbon monoxide monitors went off, he woke us up. When the power went out and my sleep apnea machine stopped working, again, the little guy was there barking and jumping on me to make sure I was all right.

And Spuddie often inadvertantly caused a raucus.I remember quite vividly the day Josh had an argument with a rabbi that is no longer in our community. The man said in Religious school, one day, that dogs were worse than snakes and no one should ever have one for a pet. My son, God bless him, became furious. Unlike the other kids, however, who were on their feet and shouting, my Joshua stood and quietly glared at the man. "Rabbi," he said. "Did it ever occur to you that dog spelled backwards is God? And that maybe dogs are God's eyes, judging us on how we treat dogs. What if God uses dogs and our treatment of them to assess us on whether or not we should be inscribed in The Book of Life on Yom Kippur?" At which point he put on his baseball cap and gathered his books. "And if that's true, that means, Rabbi, God sure isn't very impressed with you. And neither am I." Needless to say, we were called to the Rabbi's office. He was rather angry when I refused to reprimand my son and make him apologize. He became furious when I suggested my son may very well be right and if any apologies were to be made, he should be the one making them.

My husband says dogs are great but they die so young. It's too painful to have them around. Well, that's true to a certain extent, I suppose. But there is nothing greater than a dog's love to get you through the harder times of life. As my son Ben once said at the ripe old age of nine and our neighbour's dog had died. " Our rabbi told us once that we stay on this earth long enough to learn all we have to learn, Mom, especially how to love one another. Well, I think dogs don't have to live as long as we do. They figure out how to love as soon as they pick us to be their family."

Somehow, I think he might be right on that. Will we get another dog? Probably not, at least not for a long while. There isn't another dog out there who will ever be like Spuddie. He was a dog whose life was a celebration. It was happy, long, and full of love and the Goldsteins will miss him very much.