Tucker wasn’t a dog. Tucker was family.

After 20 beautiful years with two bonded dogs, the thought of a quiet house - without the sounds of paws on the floor - was too much for Mike and Cheryl (definitely more Mike than Cheryl) to bear. One day was enough was all they (he) could handle. They (again, he, but he loves dogs so it makes sense) needed a new heartbeat in the house, so when they saw an ad in the paper for a golden retriever - READY NOW - they didn’t hesitate.

Cheryl knew ‘happy dad, happy pad’ was a real thing, so they picked up and drove to the farm.

They thought they were getting a dog. Cheryl prayed they were getting a dog. They got a Tucker instead.

From the moment she arrived, she was running the show. 

Where would they vacation? Wherever was best for Tuck.

What would they eat? Something Tuck could share in.

Having people over and are worried about entertaining them? There was a 100% chance Tucker would do something wild to steal the show.

Need a quiet house? Good luck with that too, Tucker was on guard (against the wind). Want to play pull? Nope, Tucker would want to play PUSH.

Uniquely her own dog and equally part of the family, only as Tuck could.

As dogs do, Tucker gave everything she had. She loved fiercely, ate heartily (too heartily at times), and swam like she was born for the water. Tucker was more than just a family dog - she was the matriarch of the pack, while intuitively drawing on the personalities of the past dogs.

And just like she’d been there for every swim, every ball chase, and every family moment, she made it to one last Father’s Day celebration for Mike.

It was her final gift before she said goodbye. Perfectly Tucker til the end.