Cliff.
Good dog.
I’m drawn to good.
I don’t care about your politics or your religion, or what team you root for. If you are good, you’re above any other line I might draw. It’s what matters most to me.
“Good dog.” It’s a crutch phrase I trust every one of us who’s ever been a dog’s person has used almost daily. Positive feedback for an extended sit-and-stay. Praise for dialing in on the proper spot to do their business. Hey, nice job shutting the ear-splitting barking down.
For Cliff Flea Newberg, “good dog” was more than a nod of approval.
It was his bio. Full stop.
Cliff came to us in November 2024, a sheepadoodle of 15 months, from a local doodle rescue. There’s no debate whose lives that decision changed most for the better: it’s a tie.
He’s the only male dog we’ve had. The family pup that preceded him, and one who joined us later, were given Rangers-adjacent names that fit the gender: Nellie and Adrienne.
But this time we were bringing home a male, opting not to stick with the “Mountain Dew” name he came with. I’d been saying for many years — you can probably guess since when — that I was determined, with the family’s consent, to name our first male dog “Cliff Lee.”
The motion carried, with one tweak: Erica suggested we change the middle name to “Flea.” Easy yes.
Cliff Flea Newberg. Lovingly named for one of the greatest impact Texas Ranger additions ever, extraordinary and singular and an unassuming rock star.
Check.
Check.
Check.
Another part of the Cliff Lee story:
He was here for far too short a time.
.
[Deep breath.]
.
We lost Cliff on Tuesday morning, at a horribly insufficient two years and seven months of age. The shock hasn’t fully worn off. It’s devastating.
He was chill. He was steady. He was patient. He was kind.
He was good.
He was not needy of your constant attention, aside from the regularly requested 20-minute game of catch. A quick-twitch athlete, he was blessed with elite mouth-eye coordination.
Adrienne Beltre Newberg, our goldendoodle, joined the family three months after Cliff did. They were amazing together (linked in a different way from their Rangers namesakes). Truthfully, Adrienne was more the Elvis of the pair than the Adrian. Adrienne was almost always the instigator, the catalyst, the chief agitator — while Cliff tended to take on the Adrian role, usually on the receiving end of the mischief but never one to shy from it.
Cliff gave us just over 500 days of his amazing life. Given the life he had come from, I am comfortable saying that we, including Adrienne, were great for him.
He was perfect for us.
And, always, he was good.
I still can’t believe he’s gone. It’s hard to process. Tough to accept. Doesn’t feel real.
I miss him so much. But the overwhelming and numbing disbelief, the depth of the void that he leaves, the foggy feeling of being completely unmoored — it’s all (very) slowly fading as we lean more into the awesome memories that that beautiful, noble soul delivered almost daily.
Cliff never seemed unmoored. His demeanor, his dignity, his style — all of it gave off an “I got this” vibe.
We’re trying.
If you are so inclined, please consider adopting or fostering from or donating to Doodle Rock Rescue or The Human Society of Dallas, or whichever life-saving animal rescue organization you believe in.
You guys are all amazing. Thank you.
This feels timely. I’m laying down to rest my best friend of nearly 9 years, Blue, the best beagle I could’ve asked for. He took care of me as much as I tool care of him and it was a wonderful journey. Incredibly hard beyond imagine, but choosing to believe I’ll get to see him again someday 💙