Bark, the Herald Angels Sing

As a puppy with eyes as blue as cornflowers, Hank loved to sleep in my brother-in-law Mike’s flip flop. Hank grew to be huge, lanky, and lopey with a cowboy’s gait, with floppy ears swaying to match his saunter. 

From his first days, Hank wanted my cat Kiara to love him, as he loved her. Alas, she did not. In fact, she rebuffed his every advance and attempt at friendship. Hank’s nose became accustomed to being solidly swatted by Kiara’s clawless paw. Kiara waited around every corner and under every bed for unsuspecting Hank. Kiara smirked at the satisfying plomp of each smack. She was 13 pounds to his 130 pounds, but she was the boss. Hank was dejected when his efforts at kinship were thwarted. I believe he felt some relief when she died.

Hank went to work with Mike daily and loved his responsibility as the customer service representative for Hazley Builders. The clients loved the comical presence of Hank, clumsily exploring each job site. When he was no longer able to make it through a day of work due to age, Hank was despondent to be left at home.

Sometimes, my parents watched Hank overnight. He slept across the hall from my parent’s bedroom. He liked to be covered completely, head and all, with his special fuzzy and ratty blanket. Every time his blanket slipped from his head, Hank sounded a single bark. If you didn’t wake and come to reposition the blanket, he would keep calling until you came to his aid, even though he was capable of doing it himself. On one visit, Grandma slept on the blow-up mattress next to Hank. Once this was arranged, he slept peacefully through the night. 

On one of these visits, Grandpa made Hank a harness attached to a 20-foot rope. Hank pulled Grandpa on his bike down the railroad bike trail in the fashion of a horse-drawn carriage. Hank knew they were headed for his favorite swimming spot on the river and he galloped all the way. Once there, Hank loved to hold his breath and dig under the water to unearth rocks. Hank would find the largest log and drag it around the shore, chewing on it as he walked.

When I would take my dog Abby to our local preserve, I would often swing by my sister’s house to pick up Hank. Even as his back legs failed him, he managed to get himself into the back seat. Despite his size, Hank was the easier one to walk. (Abby has a frequent alert-bark-and-lunge routine to warn me of other dogs.) Hank and Abby were besties. Abby was Hank’s miniature, adoring shadow. Hank grew into the canine patriarch, as most of his dog friends revered and respected him, while literally and figuratively looking up to him.

Young Hank stuck close to Mike, always needing his main person in his sight. If Mike left the room, Hank was unsettled. Hank would make a special noise when he was happy- a mix of a howl, a high-pitched yelp, and dog words. As Hank got older, he developed many lumps and growths and odd hairs that stuck out askew, but he was always beautiful to us. He never lost his happy noise for his special people.

Hank’s most special person was Cora. From the time she was born, Hank endured all kinds of play and “love” and torture. He always responded to Cora with patience and kindness and endurance. One beautiful video shows Cora repeatedly giving Hank the top of her head to lick. Cora understood death in a different way than the rest of us. She was excited for Hank to be “going to heaven soon” and talked about it often. She took me off-guard with her casual mention of Hank leaving us. Recently, I read that children can deal so easily with death, as they more recently have come from that other realm. That made sense to me. Cora was not afraid, but happy for Hank.

We all said our goodbyes to Hank many times. He had repeated health issues that frequently made us think he was finished. But somehow, he just kept living. The night before Hank was scheduled to leave us for real, I drove slowly by the house, like a secret funeral procession, to say my very last goodbye. I knew that going inside was out of the question, as I would have been just a puddle and a mess, causing upset where there was peace. Hank and I said our goodbyes telepathically. I put my hand on my heart and sent him my love. He felt me, I felt him, and we whispered of love and rest and forever.

Hank’s last days found him wandering the neighborhood, with old ears unable to hear the call to come home. As Hank’s last visitor, the home hospice vet brought chocolates and sausages. Erin reported that Hank’s last moments were content and peaceful. In his calm, he heard that final call to come home.

A few days after Hank passed, the Hazley family Christmas card arrived in the mail. Every year, Erin designs their card with her classic cleverness and exquisite design skills. This card brought fresh tears to my cheeks. It said, “Bark, the Herald Angels Sing” and the last picture of Cora and Hank was featured. Hank had wings and a halo that were photoshopped onto him. I can hear the angels singing their welcome to you, Hank…

And also the resounding smack from Kiara.