Morgan was a Golden Retriever, and he was indeed golden-body and soul. A handsome dog, Morgan had warm, brown eyes fringed with blonde lashes, and soft, golden brown fur, the color of maple leaves as they change from yellow to rust in the fall. He had long, floppy ears that bounced when he ran, and he had an endearing way of lifting them up slightly when someone spoke to him.

Morgan was, simply put, sweet. He was laid-back, happy, and eager to please. He didn't have an ounce of aggression in him. He would sit patiently while children hugged and petted him, and, in his younger years, when my grandchildren crawled over him. When he grew tired of the attention, he simply got up and walked away, toppling a laughing toddler to the floor.

Morgan loved everyone-people, dogs, cats and other creatures. His favorite activity was going for walks around the neighborhood, not so much for the exercise as for the opportunity to socialize. He didn't power walk, he ambled, which gave him more time to greet his many friends, Everyone knew Morgan, and he seemed to be welcome everywhere. He was friendly to a fault. If neighbors were sitting on their porches, Morgan assumed he was invited to join them, which he usually was and which we frequently did.

Morgan loved going to parks, with dense woods for exploring all kinds of good scents and open fields for chasing tennis balls or romping with other dogs we frequently met. He loved dogs that liked him back. If a dog didn't like him, Morgan was genuinely mystified. He was especially fond of puppies, taking a puppy I had found under his wing while we fostered him, and once tucking a neighbor's small dog under his body when another dog started to play a little too roughly. He liked cats, bunnies, and squirrels, too, and was disappointed when they ran away from him because they didn't realize that he just wanted to be friends.

Morgan also enjoyed rides in the car. It didn't matter where we went, as long as he could go along. He went with me to visit my daughter and her family in Cincinnati and on several trips to West Virginia and Niagara Falls, where people found Morgan so charming they asked if they could take his picture. But Morgan's favorite places to go were Baskin Robbins for ice cream and McDonald's and the bank, because he knew the people at the drive-through windows would offer him dog biscuits, which he accepted graciously.

As much as he enjoyed walks and rides, however, Morgan loved being a couch potato even more, especially in the winter, when the cold and snow bothered his legs and shortened the distance he could walk. He was content to lie on the couch for hours, happy to be safe and warm, knowing he was loved.

Morgan's world became smaller and smaller as he grew older and his health declined, Long walks around the neighborhood were replaced with short trips to the park and lazy afternoons in the backyard where we first met each other, but Morgan seemed happy and content, especially when people and other dogs came to visit. Eventually, however, life became increasingly difficult for him, and while I believe he had struggled to stay with me as long as he could, Morgan died, peacefully and in my arms, on the morning of January 23, 2009.

Morgan had loved everyone and everyone loved Morgan. How could we not? He was pure gold.

Thanks to the kindness and affection family, friends, and neighbors showed him, the last eight years and five months of Morgan's life-more than half his lifetime-were golden, too. I like to think that the last half of his life was the very best part of his life.

Barbara Grale