Hank, Hank, Hank
Today is one week since my dearest, darling, sweetest boy dog, Hank Williams, Jr., crossed the Rainbow Bridge. At least I can type that without bursting into gut-wrenching sobs. Hank. Hank, Hank, Hank. The Hankmonster. Hankness. The Hankster. Beagle known and loved by neighborhoods both in Minnetonka and Belleair Beach. My sweet boy. My sweetest baby. Perpetual puppy dog. Garbage eater. Underwear and sock chewer. Snatcher of all types of meat, in particular Boars Head ham, from counters, tables, plates, sandwiches. Necessitator of carrying your plate of food with you as you retrieve something you forgot in another room, since upon your return, the protein on your plate would have been gobbled in your absence. He developed one food related trick late in life. Upon my putting a meal on the kitchen table, Hank would scratch at the back door, his signal that he needed to go out. In t...