To say he was a good dog is a far stretch. However, he was the best friend a young guy growing into a man could have. Ever since that first cold winter in Connecticut for grad school, I’ve had my troublesome buddy to keep me honest.
I’m heading into this winter without him physically here for the first time.
He and Mary Hudson were born on the same date (seven years apart), so that bond is beyond special.
Here’s to the only dog that ate bathroom drywall, laptop computers, entire steaks defrosting on the countertop, entire pizzas (that he would close the box on to cover his tracks), numerous shoes and gloves (including both the shoes and gloves pictured above), a Sam’s Club sized bottle of Advil and many incalculable objects made out of aluminum and/or other metals that would later require surgery and/or dialysis.
He was a terrible dog. But he was the best dog in the world. I needed him more than he needed me, and he left this universe a better place having known him.
Go crazy up in doggie heaven, Schaef.
I miss you.
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