Summer school. In 1976, maybe 1975. A house brother -- whose name escapes me now -- went for a run. And Moose joined him for the run, as he done many times before.

But this time was different. The run included running across the bridge to Lafayette. The tree limbs were touching the side of the bridge, and Moose saw a bird or squirrel or something in the tree limbs, and Moose jumped at the prey.

There was a 10 foot drop to the river bank below, and Moose fell all the way. Broken back. A very, very sad and early end to a mightly dog. 

As one of the "Animal Science" people at Stellar, I spent many hours studying the mannerisms, habits and actions of that fine dog.  As much as he tried, he simply could never fully accept that he was "mastered" by so many varyingly different people.  The odd, strange and surely demented demands placed on him for so many years took its toll.  While he appeared happy-go-lucky to the uninformed observer, I contend that he was, in reality, a very disturbed and confused canine.  My evaluation of the events that led to his death lead me to believe that he chose to end his life on that fateful day.  His choice to do it on a beautiful summer day, near the great university that he called home, only adds to his legend and secures his spot in the history of our great co-op house.

Brother Steve Hubbard was the jogging partner of Moose that fateful day.  I speculate that some scent of strange caught his attention and he "jumped" for joy with the use of bifocals.  He has been missed, will be missed, and I am sure his descendents continue his cur bloodline in the area.