Hank

Just as the pandemic began, Annie and I were on a trip through Lake Havasu, Page, Zion, Bryce, and Best Friends Animal Sanctuary in Kanab, Utah. If you don’t know Best Friends story, look them up—it’s remarkable. We were told we wouldn’t be meeting dogs, but then this slowwwww guy strolled up with a volunteer and joined our tour. He went right to Annie, resting his big noggin on her leg. Then he came to me and did the same. We couldn’t stop thinking about him. We flew home, and just days later, Annie flew back to Vegas, drove to Kanab, picked him up, and road-tripped him home. He panted in her ear for 30 hours straight. No joke. He’d been left behind after his owner passed away. Animal control brought him in, and he seemed so sad. He didn’t respond to “Twix,” the name they gave him. We tried names for weeks until Annie said, “Hank,” and he sat right down, looking up at her. That was his name. His long tail finally started to wag. He and our boxer, Peter, hit it off immediately. Peter had been depressed after losing Lola, but Hank perked him—and us—right up. Peter taught him couch naps, car rides, and the joy of hiking along Lake Superior. Hank’s reaction to seeing the big lake for the first time was unforgettable: pure joy. He ran straight into the waves… and got spit back out on the sand. We spoiled him with cheeseburgers, McNuggets, and ice cream cones—trades for dressing up in holiday attire and school pictures. He was so easy to love. His eyes melted your heart. He T-rexed his arms, loved belly scratches, and rolled in grass and dirt until he was “grounded.” He chased a bear, loved squirrels, was unsure about deer, and instantly knew "his" special whistle. He hated nail clippers—once storming out of the house just because Annie was clipping hers on the deck. He could hear that sound from a mile away and would use his long nose to demand you stop. Not long after adopting him, he had a major medical episode. We weren’t sure he’d make it, and even the vet wasn’t confident. That began a long, often frustrating journey of trying to help him. Diagnoses changed, symptoms shifted—he was the kind of case that baffles people. Some days were great, but he was slowly declining. While it felt like he turned suddenly, I think he’d say it wasn’t so sudden. Vets suspect a tumor had been quietly stealing time from him for a while, until it finally took a toll we couldn’t undo. We loved him from the start, and we miss him terribly. Whether it’s 2 years or 20, it’s never enough. He was so worth loving.