He was reticent without being weak, and strong without being vocal, and that set him apart in his population. He wasn’t the biggest or the meanest, but he was not to be trifled with. If someone crossed the line with him he’d stare back with Eastwood eyes and rarely had to exert force, of which he had plenty. His dominance was matter-of-fact and accepted and rarely challenged. He’d disappear for much of the day to some quiet corner of the house, flitting around the edges of rooms into tangles of boxes or behind furniture. But come nightfall he was ready to venture out. He was a nocturnal creature and reveled in the darkness: stalking bugs on the edges of the shadows or just sitting upright on a rock, watching the night intently. And so he quietly slipped from us for the final time yesterday afternoon. He fought his hardest battles as only Lucky could: stoically and silently until finally it was too much to overcome. He was ready to jaunt into the great night on his own, and that is where he’ll live out in eternal happiness: a long, strong shadow at the fringes of our memories, sometimes stopping to gaze back at us with those round and soulful eyes and to give us a quick invisible nip on the elbow to keep us in line. His name won’t soon be forgotten, because we were the lucky ones.

Funeral Home:
All Paws Great and Small Crematory
5611 E. Houston St.
San Antonio, TX
US 78220

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