After 17 years on 34th Street, "Max the Dog" went on to his "separate reality". His reputation of moodiness and volatility carried widely in the Gifford Park area. Most neighbors knew "where" the unpredictable Max lived, but not many knew him by name. Even if they did, usually it did not quell his insistent barking.

His dog-soul had been embedded with a wisp of wolf-wiring that made him always a little "too suspicious", "too uneasy", and definitely a little "too psycho". I admired his global disdain of neighbors out a-walking, homeys on the way to JNJ's for beer or smokes, or the occasional "hippy-want-to-be" that tripped down 34th. He disliked them all. His canine wariness made me proud to be his friend.

Never one to play with Frisbees, balls or other silly people-games, his mission was one of intimidation, visibility, and uneven temperament. Even those who knew him well were never "totally" comfortable when he nudged their groins and cleaned the matter out of his eyeballs on everyone's crotch. I will admit that neither was I....

...(But the dog NEVER had "shit" in the corners of his eyes. Heck no, it was on your crotch. Or mine.)

His "watch-dog" presence may have saved us countless times and his omnipresence was a comfort, but we could never know or be fully aware of his power over the "dark-side of the hood".

But brave till the end, his woofing to the wind was an indication of his dog-bravery and the uneasiness of age.
But it was time to go, way over time maybe...

...the last few days, he slowed down greatly...pain was a daily game that sapped his strength... he sometimes slept in the rain.... I knew...he knew...I knew he knew I knew...

Dogs are spiritual beings that help us on our journeys. They are our friends.

I was proud to call MAX my dog-friend.