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A week ago, I wrote about the death of my friend and co-worker Andy Caire from cancer (that entry can be found here). This Friday, I attended a memorial service for him at Colonial Williamsburg. Martha Thomas, another one of my co-workers and the one person I've worked with who was as kind-hearted and generous as Andy, had suggested the memorial be held outdoors, so all the dogs who stopped by the shop could attend; and Andy's family followed through on that suggestion. The ceremony took place at the large oak tree on the Market Square green behind the Courthouse, and it seemed as though every person I've worked with in the last three years at CW was there, along with at least 40 dogs and their owners. What was even more remarkable was how well-behaved the dogs were; apart from the occasional errant bark, they were all quiet and calm throughout. It's probably too much of a descent into cheap sentimentality to anthropomorphize their behavior, but I couldn't help but think they sensed the dignity and gravity of the occasion and were paying their respects through their good behavior. That's probably a really silly idea, but it's how I felt.

It was a very moving ceremony. After an opening prayer, Andy's brother Beau spoke about how moved he was to discover how many people cared about Andy, and he mentioned how many of Andy's friends had asked him what would happen to Andy's beloved golden retriever Wally. He announced that Andy's neighbor Rob Warren had decided to adopt Wally, and would continue to take him on his regular morning walks through the Historic Area. He concluded by inviting people in attendance to share their memories of Andy, and most of the ceremony consisted of these impromptu stories, all of which had something to do with Andy's love of dogs and his compassionate nature. The evening concluded with another prayer, led by another of my long-time friends, actor-interpreter Greg James. While I've never been a deeply religious person, I couldn't help but be moved by Greg's words; it was the most beautiful prayer I've ever heard in my life, and I regret that I can't remember it word-for-word now and transcribe it here.

The next day, while I was giving an orientation walk, I noticed that the Shoe shop was set up as a tribute to Andy's memory: the sign proclaiming CANINES LOVE ANDY hung by the door, the bucket of dog biscuits was out on the bench, and the elaborate flower arrangement from the memorial service sat on the pile of firewood outside the window. I almost broke down crying as I told my tour group about Andy, and I felt the same way today when I was giving breaks at the Shoe-- oddly enough, for Martha, who brought an entire box of treats to refill that bucket. It was especially difficult when one dog owner who hadn't yet heard the news stopped by, and was doubly upset because he'd missed the memorial. But the day had its happy moments as well, and the high point was when a group of Saint Bernards (including one of Andy's favorite dogs, Zeus) stopped by. They were soon joined by other passing dogs, and as Martha and I stood in the midst of this mass of dogs handing out biscuits, I realized that while things will never be the same without Andy, we can still keep his memory alive by continuing the tradition he started.