Tucker, Wilson and Winnie “Pooh Bear” keep home interesting. Ike’s place in the family—and his HR title—remains permanent.
Joined the family August 18, 2014.
This was the day I met Tucker. I looked at that face and decided he was coming home with me. The decision had been made.
In retrospect, Tucker may have been the one who made the decision. These days, the cool bathroom floor remains one of his favorite places to settle in.
Joined the family October 29, 2024.
Fresh from his first grooming and immediately back to work. Nobody was getting past Wilson without authorization.
His own departures are another matter. Open doors are opportunities, and Wilson has always had his own ideas about freedom.
Pooh Bear joined the family on September 25, 2026, and quickly made himself at home alongside Tucker and Wilson.
A water enthusiast with a talent for splashing the kitchen and an interest in joining me in the hot tub. His other specialty? Looking completely innocent afterward.
On Saturday, Pooh Bear followed me through the gate and up onto the pool deck. He took one look at the solar cover and apparently concluded it was an excellent place to take a stroll.
It was not.
Before I knew it, the little shit was in the water. Thankfully, he swam straight back toward me, and I was able to lift him out. I was about thirty seconds away from jumping in fully clothed to get him.
He was startled, understandably, but he was okay — and very, very wet.
Between flooding the kitchen, trying to join me in the hot tub, and now attempting to defy physics in the swimming pool, I'm beginning to think Pooh Bear believes he's a Labrador trapped in a Cavapoo's body.
For the record, the pool is gated and inaccessible to the dogs unless I open it. And no, the solar cover is not a sidewalk.
Two noses, plenty to investigate.
The dogs who came before are still part of this story.
Sam was my first dog, joining the family around 1977 or 1978. He loved being outside and was as gentle as could be. He rarely wanted to come in the house, but when storms rolled through, he made an exception and headed straight for the basement to hide.
You could leave a steak on the counter and Sam wouldn't touch it. A tub of butter, however, was another matter entirely. That would disappear.
Thanksgiving 1978, Lakeview: We had just moved into our house on Lakeview when Mom noticed things had gotten suspiciously quiet. She went looking for me and found Sam and me sitting together in the kitchen, a bag of cheesy puffs between us. I would eat one, then give Sam one, taking turns like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Mom said she couldn't even get mad. We were behaving, staying out of the way, and the sight of a little boy sharing his cheesy puffs with his dog was just too funny.
My first dog, and one of my earliest memories of friendship.
Joined the family November 29, 2012. Crossed the Rainbow Bridge May 10, 2024.
Ike did not hide his opinions. If he was mad at you, he ignored you. If he wanted attention, subtlety was not part of the process: he climbed into my lap and smacked me in the face with his paw.
Mom said “no,” and Ike listened. I said “no,” and Ike apparently heard, “Challenge accepted.” He escaped, visited the neighbors, begged for treats and returned as though absolutely nothing unusual had happened.
At work he sat on the desk, watched everyone and quickly learned who would feed him and who would not. A friend at the Illinois Department of Transportation simply referred to him as HR. The title stuck.
Before HR had officially taken over.
Ike at home, where he belongs.
Bocephus Bear Grizzly Beck was his registered name. To the family, he was Bo—a long-haired German Shepherd with his own rules about security and snacks.
Bo wouldn’t leave the garage or bark at anyone from there. But he would run out into the yard and bark from the fence. Apparently, an announcement required the proper location.
He knew exactly where the hot dogs were in the refrigerator and expected one from Dad every day when he got home from work. Some days, Bo decided it was a two-hot-dog day and pestered Dad until the second one appeared.
Eventually, he had Aunt Carol trained to give him one too. The hot dog operation had expanded.
Bo also loved Wiffle balls so much that Mom ordered an entire case from the company. Once he found the box, he quietly helped himself to a new one whenever he wanted. Nobody really knew he was getting into the supply.
For years after he passed, we would still find a random Wiffle ball in the house—a little reminder of Bo and his private inventory system.
Bailey, Bo, Tucker and Ike—left to right—lined up on the balcony to watch the annual hot air balloon festival in Colorado Springs. Four very different personalities, sharing one remarkable view.
Moira Rose’s commentary: “Four precious darlings assembled on their private balcony to witness enormous, brightly colored objects floating through the heavens. A spectacle of such grandeur! Though I suspect at least one of them was more interested in the possibility of airborne squirrels.”
Meet Bo and Bailey, my parents’ dogs—the two who replaced my sister and me as the favorite children.
Here they are posing in front of the Beck stone for what looks very much like their official family portrait. My sister and I were apparently demoted to supporting cast.
Mom and Dad now have Duke and Beckett carrying on the proud family tradition of replacing my sister and me as the favorite children. Apparently, the succession plan is still working perfectly.
Photos coming soon.
Freedom isn't free.
Honor. Remember. Never Forget.
You are not forgotten.
★ Honoring those who served. Always. ★
