How can one began to thank you Mak for the lessons you taught in a way that only a goofy doofy laughy boy could teach….You gave us more tears than any furry face has ever given us, you sopped up more tears in your fur than any other furry face has had to absorb. You came when we needed you most – gave with your whole heart and a whole lot more- — SURPRISE nine puppies. 
You mended hearts and broke hearts. You, my wild man left us having proven yourself as an awesome father, super lover boy and worthy Dog Scout. Things were never dull once you joined our home. You came as our guide to help us understand Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder CLEAR – CONCISE communication with a healthy dose of LOVE.
You taught us to TEACH things in small steps
over and over.
You balked and stretched at each landing, tentatively tested each step and finally ran and zoomed up and down on chase the cat missions. In the process of learning you showed us what generalization meant – it meant you had to learn to go up and down, you had to learn about wood steps and concrete steps. We had to teach you to go down carpeted steps, one paw at a time. And now dear Mak when I am frustrated with someone who is not learning as quickly as I can, I think of you and all the steps we worked on. And I break it down to smaller steps realizing that each step is important and I smile with the picture of all 70 furry pounds of you confused and scared of a simple step.
Merry Christmas
from all of us at
Knarlwoods
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You taught us
the cost of innocence.
I never understood why our young people with FASDs found it so hard to apologize for the damage and pain and confusion they caused in others lives. You wiggly boy came to teach us that innocence is not FREE and that all of us in our innocence fall short of the Glory of God. You came to show us in our wondrous abilities of trying to do right that sometimes things happen from innocence and in innocence we hurt others to such depth that we cannot understand their pain because we have not made the investment nor walked in their shoes. You showed us in a deeper sense the importance of Jesus -- in our inability to protect, or choose, or simply not pay attention we fall short, we sin, we place ourselves in harms way. We cause unintended damage and pain to those we don’t intend to hurt.
You taught us the value of cause and effect
You left behind a growing pack of pups who have as little knowledge of cause and effect as you had and will need to be protected from harm for a lifetime. We laugh as we watch your offspring destroying their warm dog bed - it's winter and a bed is important in a dog house, but in momentous glee they are captured by tugging and growling until the bed is pulled through the small door and soon the sky is filled with small foam pieces and puppy laughter and wiggles of delight as they chase the falling mess . . . not understanding they have just lost their warm, snuggly happy place and they will be cold. It took our daughter nine homes to understand the preciousness of a warm safe place to live. Today we watch as she transverses adulthood lacking this same skill. Innocently bouncing from one exciting thing to another - needing a cleanup crew.
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You taught us practice is worth the effort
We learned over time how to teach you and you even painted us a picture, gave us a pink conformation ribbon and earned your Dog Scout Title.
And like teaching our children with FASDs nothing you learned came easy and as teachers we were dragged and jumped and bruised. Teaching you humbled us - humbled us as you twisted out of your collar and ran through the Pet Store, humbled us as we tackled you on long recalls. Yet in the end you walked along side us, loose leashed happy to be family, always laughing – finding joy in the little and the simple.
You taught us
compassion
You broke our hearts with your final mission – we had built fences to protect you, we had worked long hours to train you to be safe, but in the end that laughing freedom to run and run and run broke your body and broke our hearts. And the final lesson you shared in two huge pieces – for us the caregivers you gave us contrite hearts. To our little adult with FASDs you showed her the cost of abandoned running without control. For Liz, you gave your life so she could understand living. She didn't die this year, but you dear prince in your abandonment of the moment did.
You showed by
your example
the value of life
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