Pete was a pistol. The first time I laid eyes on him, I knew he was the dog we'd be taking home from the pet shelter in nearby Alton. He stood out from the pack, demanding to be noticed, jumping up and down on legs like coiled springs, with an enthusiasm that was contagious. Smitten, we took Pete home, and it's there that this page of our lives unfolds.

My father had recently passed away, and maybe it was the loss of his always entertaining, devil-may-care personality that I saw in Pete----maybe a way to fill that aching hole in our hearts. And as it turned out, Pete WAS like Dad. His enthusiasm was a spectacle, a typical ' bull in the china shop' approach, always rushing head-long into hair brain antics, dragging us right along. True, he aggravated the hell out of us sometimes, but just like Dad, he also inspired, reminding us to keep the child in our hearts alive and not to take our busy lives so very seriously. Pete resisted what little training we attempted, hooked on his stubborn terrier ways, and a maverick not about to be tamed with our charm school approach.

In the years that followed Pete became family, all the while enjoying a celebrity role created for him by our friend Suze, with her magical drawing pen. As a starring attraction in our catalogs, he sprang to life, his irrepressible personality laid out for all to see. Here's Pete, bespectacled in sunglasses a` la Jack Nicholson, eyeing a cartoon of prancing Cannas, in 'acorus line'. Turn to page 3, and there he is again…. 'ever the trend setter', dancing a tango paw to paw with Minnie, his doting protégé, and luring us into the land of tropicalismo.

On our inside cover, in parody of Ed Sullivan, he extends his paws high into the air, leading our eyes to a giant elephant ear curtain, lifting to reveal the path to Piasa, and our many 'horticultural treasures'. Now turn to page 6---it's Pete, again, basking in the sun on his 'party hearty' beach towel, offering himself to passing admirers in a cleverly contrived pay-for-your-pleasure (that'll be 25 cents, folks) 'petting zoo'.

In the never ending quest to satisfy that bottomless appetite , we see him parading on a picket line toting a 'Will work for chicken' placard (Moonlight was always preferred) and shaded by a giant elephant ear leaf, held aloft by helpful Minnie. A devotee of junk food, Peter Q. Kelley was often seen plumply content, 'Ho Hos' and Big Slurpies by his side, caught once again in the continuing saga of 'dietary indiscretions'.

With their curiosity piqued, and catalogues in hand, countless fans set out on pilgrimage to Cottage Garden, anxious for a look at this bigger than life terrier, and lusting after the plants he so brazenly peddled. Pete played it for all it was worth, strutting about the nursery, stopping only a brief moment for his adoring fans, then rushing off with a 'don't bother me, I'm busy' affront as they bent down to pet him. Dismissed, they could only admire from afar, while he charged at mischievous squirrels and dug in a frenzy for moles.

Pete was a 'best buddy' too, happily curled up at our sides as we read or watched television, and especially when he spied us with snack in hand. He also shared with me a passion for digging in the ground, the earth drawing us like a magnet….he, after elusive prey, and me, drawing that life force from the earth I touched, into my heart. We were linked by the very ground we walked on, as a higher power decreed. When he left us one beautiful spring day last year, we were devastated, and left with still another hole in our hearts. Busy in the hectic spring planting season, we welcomed the distraction, numbed with grief.

Nearly a year later, I can imagine Pete running in the distance across our farm fields, or perched at his favorite lookout, eagerly anticipating our arrival, as we drive up the graveled road that always leads us home. I have his ashes in my bedroom drawer, ever close for intimate thoughts of him daily, and I can't bring myself to scatter them on the ground outside that he so loved to dig in. Maybe another time. For now, he'll live in my heart and mind, being called up whenever I want to smile, with thoughts of that rascally terrier who stole our hearts.

Chris Kelley