Two Years Gone

No 401K, savings account, or CD will give you the return on investment that a four-legged friend will, one who will love you for nine or twelve or fourteen years and stay in your heart forever.

HANK, August 2009, 3' x 4'

This is Hank, beloved Chocolate Labrador Retriever, who died at 13, two years ago. 
This is also one of my early drawings, just as I was getting back into the craft.
I would change just about everything on it, doing it today.
I wouldn't change a thing, having done it then.

Hank's been over the fireplace for two years now.
He's watched his little sister Bella grow up.
He's met Corleone, the German Shepherd, who would never dare replace to Hank.
He's seen his cat pals Waylon and Weez get relegated to the basement by Corleone's endless torture tactics.
I love them all, but Hank, perhaps, the most, still. We went through so much together.

There's still a shrine to Hank over that fireplace. Knick-knacks, Chocolate Lab figurines, photos. A box of his ashes.
For two years there have been discussions on what to do with these keepsakes, where else to put them.
All have stayed put.
Shortly I will move the ashes and the knick-knacks to other places. But I think the sketch will remain in the family room.
I like seeing him first thing in the morning, and last thing at night.

He also sees us.
So indulge me this weird little reminiscence about a dead dog.
Some of you will be shaking your heads in disbelief, wondering why the continued obsession? Why the wasted space and time? "Get over it, already. Don't you have enough to do today?"
Yeah yeah yeah.
But those of you who are truly alive and feeling humans will be OK with this.
I am a mess right now, and I'm done. Next year will pass quietly.