Even in the sadness of Buckett’s passing, this is truly a success story, for Buckett was incredibly lucky to have found Sarah and her great family and Sarah’s family was blessed to have shared their life with Buckett. The following is written by Sarah, Buckett’s mom.

“I met “Wrigley” on September 15, 1997. He was tucked away in the very last kennel, housed all alone at an animal shelter in Boulder, Colorado. He was a brindle Great Dane mix, probably crossed with Akita, and he was just gorgeous, despite the fact that he was dreadfully thin. I knew right away that he was my dog. He became “Buckett, Dear Liza” Belgard.

I have struggled considerably to write a proper memorial for my big boy. I want to let everyone know all of the intricate details of our lives together – every move, every contact, every emotion. But I cannot do that. The relationship I had with Buckett is ineffable, and I fear I will not do him, and his life, justice. So I have decided to tell you what I think HE would want you to know.

Buckett loved rocks. With him, there was no “playing fetch,” no “tug-o-war,” no enjoyment whatsoever in any doggie-safe chew toys. There were only rocks. Buckett would take his giant forepaws and place them in front of each rock, and use the strength in his highly muscular back legs to drag a rock around the backyard for hours. Whether in a straight line, circular pattern, or somewhere in between, no lawn or plant was safe when in the path of him and his rocks. If the rocks were small enough, he would put his giant paws around them, take them to another part of the yard, and start over. Bricks and stepping-stones also fell into Buckett’s category of “adequate playthings.” If you knew Buckett, you knew about his utmost passion for rocks.

At first, I thought he must be terribly bored. Why else would he do this every single day? What is so interesting about a rock? So, we tried snowshoeing in the mountains of Colorado. As I stumbled, and mostly fell on these treks, Buckett would leap ahead, suddenly disappearing into a 4 or 5-foot snow bank. And, he always came out with a rock.

So we tried swimming. For a moment or so, he might be distracted by waterfowl, but then there he would be, standing in shoulder-high water, searching, and of course finding, a rock. Buckett loved rocks.

In truth, Buckett was my rock. He was solid, strong, and independent. He was handsome, strapping, and brave, yet gentle, calm, and genuinely loving. He accepted all creatures into our home, and was happy to share his heart with them. He knew when they were ailing and they were always welcome to sleep by his side, basking in his love and kindness. I basked in that love for 12 years. He was an essential and core soul in my life. I think somehow I believed he would never leave.

Buckett’s earthly exterior changed over the years, as does the surface of all rocks. Gray hairs appeared, his hearing failed, and his legs became stiff and arthritic. But, nothing in the world would keep him away from those stones that he loved so much. In the end, he only had one sick day – September 1, 2009 – the day where my beautiful, caring, compassionate man left this earth. But, just like the stones he played with, he will always be here in my heart, soul, and my dreams.

Dad and I will be using your rocks in a garden built in your honor. Please come visit them whenever you like, old man.

Mom