I woke up in the middle of the night. I heard Peachie bark as I slept. Of course she was not there when I awoke. It was a phantom sound, swiming to the surface of my memory. Now its Christmas, a tme we all become both happy and a bit sad at the same time, as unbiden memories of Christmases past float by. It is that way with memories of our remarkable dog, Peachie. Half humor, half heartbreak.

I read the online ads for soon- to- be- whelped Labrador retrievers. Apparently, most breeders try to arrange for their pups to be born and ready for adoption just in time to fill all of Santa’s requests for puppies. We wrestle with the idea that it might be unfair to adopt a puppy at our age.

I console myself that now we can travel without the elaborate arrangements necessary for dog care. Taking a big dog along requires a dog-sized mattress, a gym bag full of chew toys, ten pounds of a special brand of dog food and maybe a dog crate. Motels often warn you off or charge extra. Oh, I should not forget the $40,000 SUV that Peachie demanded. Leave our dog at home? Out of the question since our kindly young dog sitter has now graduated from college and is likely to fly away to grad school or take a job in some distant city.

What about a portable dog? One that fits in a coat pocket or lunch backpack. Or, one of those designer dogs, say half Jack Russell, half Grey Hound, or half Dachsund, half Spitz. All the experimental mixes remind me of the film Island of Dr. Moro-where there are strange animal mixes running around scaring movie audiences. But there are also crosses like the Labradoodle. But is the world really in need of a curly-haired Lab? It all sounds too cute by half. But to each his or her own. We are Lab People. Dogs should be of a certain size. We love the comfortable familiarity of a big dog. A yellow dog. A mellow dog.

Maybe its too soon to consider another dog really, since we still shed tears when we try to discuss the possibilities. For now we will have to be satisfied visiting the married kids who have their own dogs. They are mostly sweet, hyperactive and of indeterminant ancestry-cute and personable, but without that calm dignity that has made Labs the number- one favorite dog for years-though they never win the big dog show titles. Labs are above all that. Its like the Queen going to the Royal Flower Show in England. I find it hard to believe she tends a garden or that Prince Philip would ever deign to do so. I may be mistaken. Prince Charles seems pretty keen on it. But Elizabeth Rex is just there to encourage those who actually do grow flowers. And to show off her Corgis. What would a Lab do with a trophy that was not edible? Labs are not TV fans in my experience, nor do they use a cell phone or computer trying to crank up a circle of electronic pals.

Great dogs do end up in shelters–and now there are “designer” shelters that catter only to those looking to adopt a specific breed. These folks are usually very zealous in vetting applicants. I haven’t submitted a profile for their consideration quite yet. I wonder if Peachie would have recommended us? Maybe we will find an older “Peachie” who has outlived her human parents? That is somehow a comforting thought.