He would not let you swim or boat alone and we had to physically hold him back any time my mother left, otherwise he'd find a way to join her. He was great with the kids, tried to play with every dog in the park, yet was feared by his enemies (mostly geese, some squirrels, one mink). If Mom went to bed without him—he liked to socialize—he would come to her cabin door and wake her with a special bark: just loud enough to rouse her, but soft enough that she wouldn't think something was wrong. In our house in Toronto, we needed barricades—on top of beds and the nice couches—because he had good taste, and liked to find the softest places to rest his head. I hope he's found it. He was, from beginning to end, a good boy. Miss you Macchs!