Two weeks ago. We were making our annual trip over the mountain passes from NM to CO for the Thanksgiving holiday. Two wagging tails and two happy people heading north for a warm meal and big hugs. A complete foursome, together, doing the things we love the most.
A family.
We came back home with one less.
Under the endless blue sky, on a cold patch of faded green turf grass, bathed in the warmth of this earth’s intense solar rays, our little Radar Love took her last ride into the cosmic dust and left us here. Forever changed and eternally grateful.
This precious creature was like no other and hard to describe in words. In the small digital galleries we share on our devices, we see a very full life transformed.
Together.
She came out of the Florida backwoods, small and scrappy, hungry and watchful with her amazing ears. She was timid and apprehensive in all things – a blowing leaf, a cabinet closing, a broom coming out from the corner. No one will really know what her days were like before she found us. And she had no idea how we’d fill her days from that moment forward.
It started with becoming an instant celebrity making the rounds under the palm trees, going to work at the old shuttle shop, and being crowned “Pet of the Week” in Brevard’s Hometown News (photo courtesy of Uncle Mark).
We speculated on her gene bank with a pub game we created called “What kind of dog is this?” Only some people today know the answer.
With great insistence, she claimed her spot under the covers, gladly became accustomed to nutritious hand-prepared meals, and had no problem being passed from lap to lap at all social gatherings.
Then came the pooch pouch.
This was the sign that more was in store for this little miss…
She looked on in what must’ve been mass confusion as we disassembled her newly familiar surroundings and packed the big U-Haul truck to head west.
It was from then on that Radar Love became the endearing mascot of Sahalee Off Grid and the charismatic face of our first decade here in New Mexico.
She learned to hold her own in the forested wilds in all kinds of weather and offgrid living conditions, and we found her to be most well-adjusted and joyful in her new environment as long as she had her people with her.
She loved her people so much that she even went to jail as a result of her attempt to find us when we inconsiderately left her behind on a lunch date in town.
From that point on, we had this pocket puppy reserved as a personal item for all trips no matter the mode or distance. She flew first class into Key West, crossed the pedestrian bridge into Mexico, cruised the Vegas strip, sniffed around the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame, attended to our family in hospitals and at funerals, celebrated Summer Solstice at Chaco Canyon, and participated in Village Council Meetings. She tested pillows in the poshest hotels and kept close in the backcountry when we camped near the bears. Whenever we drove, she window surfed and kept her little nose busy collecting all the smells along the way. The jingle bells she wore helped to announce her presence and signal her movements even if she was camouflaged in her groves of scrub oak. From the big water of Lake Erie to the quiet courtyard of Hacienda de Chimayo, Radar found her confidence going where we went.
She was always there.
And she always won over the toughest characters.
And she was tough.
The toughest little puppy around. She endured getting her tail broken, her shoulder separated, her teeth pulled, and having surgery to fix her knees. She’d tumble on hikes and get back up to climb the tallest boulder. She rolled off the bank into the rushing Rio Chama when we stopped for a picnic lunch and kept her cool aiming for the land where she could be scooped up by her human’s hands. She survived the introduction of Sweet Pistol Pete into the mix and learned to tolerate the company of another furry four-legged one in her space, yet always preserving her independence and appointed position of boss dog.
Our whole existence revolved around Radar Love.
Now she is not here.
The heartbreak is immense and sometimes debilitating.
It’s incredibly hard to work without her snuggled in next to me reviewing my work on the keyboard.
Making meals can result in a minor meltdown because she’s not there to quality check and clean up the little bits.
Going anywhere in the car without her beady little eyes in my rear view mirror can cause heavy sobs.
I had a letter on paper designating Radar Love as my Emotional Support Animal to help me cope with grief and now I have to grieve her.
Without her.
Without the tiny shadow, the warm lump, the aggressive kisser and dining overlord, our lives have been completely upended by ten soft pounds.
To all who have met Radar in the flesh, thank you for being a part of her life and showing her kindness. She regained her trust in humans because she learned about pure love surrounded by the best people. (We have a whole album of Radar’s friends to reminisce.) We can all only hope to find a connection just as special and spiritual as the one we had with this little baby doggy.
She’s now at peace, no longer fighting to breathe with her enlarged heart, no longer underfoot clumsy humans, shivering with a falling barometer, losing her eyesight.
We can’t thank the beautiful Dr. Bailey enough for her quick response and compassionate care to meet us strangers where we were and gently take our precious bundle to a better place where the Bacon Fairy and warm, scented breezes live in perpetuity.
It’s a hard day to live without little Radar Love in the world. All the memories, the affection, the companionship, the unspoken knowing, the goodness this tiny soul provided are too much to name at one go.
We hope you will join us in sending Radar up with a full heart to watch on us all from above.
August 25, 2015 – November 24, 2025