Little Max is dead.

Max was one of Bao's best friends, in Australia. He was a dear little black Shih Tzu. He only had one eye, but it didn't worry him. He was such a sweet, gentle affectionate little boy, several years older than Bao, who adored him. Everyone adored Max.

We stayed with Max and Marie (his mom) the last three days we were in Australia. I'd sold my house, and sold my car, and Australian hotels and motels don't allow dogs. Stay with us! said Marie. So we did.

Marie's house is on three levels. For three days, those two little guys raced one another up and down the stairs, playing and romping and doing all kinds of doggy things. They ate their meals together, they went for walks together, they curled up on the couch together and watched television. Just like a couple of kids.

Leaving was sad, because we knew the two little dogs would probably never see one another again. And I was terribly apprehensive about Bao having to spend 18 hours in the cargo hold. When the moment finally came and I had to put him into the Sky Kennel, I remember thinking that no matter what happened, at least he'd just had the happiest three days of his life.

Vale, Max. We'll never forget you.