Farewell, Crackers.

Crackers, my family’s schnauzer, died this morning. I’m glad he was a schnauzer, because it gave him a really good suit for his old man tendencies. The shaggy brow and mustache gave him the permanent affect of a rudely-awoken shop-owner. He was an ardent homebody. He’d fight you on walks heading away from the house only until he realized he was on the return loop, at which point he’d take off like a rocket. Like most dogs of his piglet-like physique, his jaunts elicited smiles from those he passed. I’m no fussy dog-owner, but he looked really terrific in a sweater. While my aunt babysat him one weekend, he escaped. A state trooper found him trotting back in the direction of our house on the Thurber’s Avenue curve of 95 South around 3 am, a miserable place to be a driver, let alone a schnauzer.

Some fairly ingenious kidney surgery gave him a few more years not too long ago thanks to our beloved longtime family vet, Dr. Dan Simpson. But, Crackers was old, with rapidly degrading health to the detriment of his comfort. My folks made him an appointment to go in peace this morning, but he didn’t make it through the night. He passed where he always preferred to be, at home, about an hour before he’d have left the house. RIP, little buddy.