I know many Americans send their dogs off to dreamland each night by saying, "You're the best dog in the world. Yes you are!" But they are all mistaken. Hank was the best dog. Ever. He sat beside me throughout grading legal writing memos and BA exams, writing articles and editing books, prepping for class and writing movie reviews. He stoically endured the births of three children and the introduction of two cats. He survived vet malpractice and the heartworms that went undetected for over a year, as well as glaucoma and the removal of one eye. We lived in six different houses the last 14 years, but it didn't matter to him because his home was curled up beside me. And for the last few years, we knew we were living on borrowed time with our one-eyed cowpoodle who couldn't hear us much anymore. I posted this photo on the blog in May 2005, and it's how I remember him. There's a movie trailer out right now with a little boy telling his parents that he doesn't want his dog Sparky to be in heaven, he wants him to be there with him. We know how he feels.
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