I lost my best friend today.
C.K. was in my life for exactly 12 years, 2 weeks and a day. We first brought him home on December 23, 1999. He was so small, he fit in the palm of my hand. As a miniature dachshund, he never got really big, but at 15lbs now he seems so big to me.
C.K. was always there for me. Always ecstatic when I got home, always upset when I had to stop petting his head and go to work — the nerve of me! C.K. was my buddy in watching the Redskins fail again and again, looking ridiculous in the Redskins jersey I bought him. The jersey was size extra-small, but even then his little 2 inch legs were too short for it.
My entire family, particularly my mom, loved — loves — C.K. He was at all our familial gatherings, he got a plate of ham (his favorite) and other food at Christmas and Thanksgiving. He fell asleep in laps – mine, Mom’s, my Aunt Angela, my Grandmother’s, my little cousins. He cozied up with everyone, from my girlfriend to my uncle to perfect strangers. He would not be ignored. You must rub his head or his belly, or fear the wrath.
He wasn’t just a “pet.”
Those of you who read this blog and my Twitter feed know C.K. too. You’ve seen me post humorous photo essays about the “weiner dog of infinite justice.” You’ve seen me post goofy pictures and videos, notes about his birthday and the like. You’re part of the C.K. story as well.
He was diagnosed today with a tumor in his stomach and had been having trouble breathing. I could not allow him to suffer. I love him too much.
He’ll always be with me and I’ll love him until the day I die.
The outpouring of love and condolences is a testament to my little baby dog and the life he led.
P.S. Those of you who know me a little bit know this, but of course C.K. stands for Clark Kent and not the fashion designer (as if). He was and is in every way a Super Dog.
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