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Dogs don't get funerals. Even so, I've decided to give a eulogy for Chip. He wouldn't understand most of it, but it would make me feel better.

Chip D. Dog was born on April 22, 1998, a purebred English springer spaniel. His first guardian named him Mick and brought him to the pound at the age of four months when he proved too boisterous to live in a small apartment. Luckily, he didn't have to stay there long.

When he saw Dan, who was looking for a dog with me at the pound, the pup got very excited and wagged not just his tail but his whole body. The pound arranged for us to meet him even though someone was on hold for his adoption. Chip took an instant liking to us and cried when we had to leave. Fortunately, the other people changed their mind, and Chip came home with us. Love at first lick!

We decided to name the dog Chip because the spots on his nose looked like chocolate chips. But we almost named him Jerry Springer Spaniel just to be silly. Chip learned his new name within two days.

When we found out we would be bringing a dog home, the first things we bought for him other than edibles were a purple nylon collar and a purple ball that squeaked. Chip was a powerful chewer and destroyed every squeaky toy he ever got except the purple ball. I found the collar and the ball last weekend, and I'm going to keep them to remind me of when he was a happy little puppy. The purple ball also reminds me that Chip seemed to have a sense of humor. If I threw the ball for him, he'd run after it and get it and head back to me like he was going to give it to me, and then at the last minute, he'd run past me, seeming to laugh as he did so.

Chip proved to be quite smart. He was completely crate trained in less than a week. When we installed a dog door, he figured it out in about 10 minutes.

We took him to puppy obedience school, and he passed. Only problem was, even though he had learned everything properly, his extreme exuberance would sometimes cause him to forget not to pull on a leash or to not lick guests at the house. Most people were charmed by him though and forgave him.

When he was young, I used to refer to Chip as a spring-loaded spaniel because he could leap several feet in the air. Fortunately, he didn't use this talent to climb the fence in the yard, but he found it did come in handy for such antics as swiping packages of cinnamon rolls from the kitchen counter top.

Chip had many nicknames. One was Boogie Butt because sometimes he would wag his tail so hard he looked like he was dancing. I used to tell Dan that if Chip wagged any harder, he might actually levitate.

Chip was also known as the World's Most Spoiled English Springer Spaniel. Who else would have FIVE dog beds? To be fair, they were distributed throughout the house and were intended to help with his awful arthritis, but between those and innumerable toys, he was definitely king of the castle.

But he was not a saint, he was a dog. One time when he was still a puppy, while we were at work, he got past the barrier we had put up, went into the living room and ATE a semi-valuable edition of "War of the Worlds" on vinyl, a valuable antique children's record, and some videotapes. Another time, about three years ago, he knocked over the kitchen trash can, disregarding the shake can that was on it, and dug around looking for a treat wrapper, getting himself covered with leftover cranberry sauce in the process. And he could be led astray, such as when the neighbor's dog taught him how to dig under the fence.

Chip also enjoyed things that didn't get him into trouble, like lying on the floor with all four paws in the air and rolling on his back in the grass in the back yard. He was the only dog I've ever met who would actually play with his dog food. He would carry a few pieces of kibble to the living room, drop it on the floor, bow to it, paw at it like he was dancing, jump into the air and bark as if to intimidate it before finally deciding it was sufficiently ready to eat.

Chip liked tummy rubs and being scratched on the head or behind the ears. If you said "front door", he would sit and watch the world go by through the glass for hours. If you blew bubbles, he would chase them and try to bite them, showing off his amazing leaping ability.

Chip liked going for walks even though he would tend to pull on his leash so he could try to sniff the entire planet. When I still had decent mobility, Dan and I would take him to parks. City Park in Denver was his fave because it had big fat squirrels; Chip was a smart dog, but for some reason, whenever he was chasing a squirrel and it ran up a tree, he couldn't figure out where it had disappeared to.

Chip enjoyed games and being silly. His fave was "go see Dan, come see me", in which Dan and I would stand in different rooms at opposite ends of the house and have him run first to one of us and then the other, back and forth until he got tired. He also liked it when we would break up a treat into small pieces, hide the pieces in various places and have him find them by following his nose, kind of like a doggie Easter egg hunt.

He was king of the back yard. When it was windy, he'd stand on the porch and sniff the air excitedly. When it snowed, he would try to eat all of it; he really seemed to think he could.

Chip thought Nylabones were awesome. We would give him the ones for large dogs because he could wear the small ones down to nubs in a matter of weeks. And he pretty much worshiped Kong toys with treats stuffed inside.

Chip's fave people food was braunschweiger (liver sausage). It was the only food we could successfully hide his medication in. He was otherwise not allowed people food unless we dropped it onto the floor, in which case it was fair game. The "accidental" foods he liked best were ham and popcorn.

Chip was smart enough to teach himself to go to his crate before he was asked. He could also find his toy anywhere in the house or yard on command.

Chip also had his share of dislikes, particularly cats. He had very little patience and would tell you in no uncertain terms when it was time for breakfast. Also, if you tried to talk to someone in the house and weren't paying attention to him, he would grumble, making a noise that sounded like "rum, rum, rum".

Chip took the job of being a dog seriously. When he was alone in the house, he would go without eating or drinking even though food and water were readily available because he was guarding the house; as soon as we got home, he went straight for the water dish. He seldom barked unless a stranger came up to the house, and then he would sound like a Doberman. He once alerted me to some kids breaking into my neighbors' vehicles while my neighbors' dogs didn't make a peep.

Chip was quite empathetic. On the days I was upset about being sick, he would try and comfort me. When we grieved the loss of loved ones, he'd give us his best "I'm sorry" face. Ironic that we need that face now that he's not here.

Chip would allow me to give him genuine hugs without getting all squirmy. He also would hug me back in his own way by leaning on me.

I used to make up silly songs about Chip and sing them to him. He didn't seem to object. He was also accustomed to me talking to him most of the time that Dan wasn't home.

Chip had the softest fur of any dog I ever met. He was an extremely pettable, and overall, a very lovable creature. I like to think that if there's a heaven for dogs, Chip is enjoying it to the fullest.

In conclusion, I'd like to share a poem I wrote about Chip eight years ago in the style of Emily Dickinson:

A rocket with furry feet --
Curious -- and fleet --
An empath of modest sweet.

Inspects -- inhales with spotted nose --
Entreats -- wants two of those --
Enjoys by mouthfuls springtime snows --
Infinite enrichment where he goes.