requiescat in pace

I mention this not to make anybody more sad, or be lugubrious or uncomfortable, but I wanted to say goodbye to Puck, who was not my dog, but a very very very good dog I was privileged to know, even babysit once or twice. He was the kind of dog that was All Dog, you know? All Id. He made me giggle a lot, as he charged about, even when he was a pest. Very very doggie, even though he had the usual charming non-dog quirks, some of which ran hilariously counter to stereotypes about his partial pit bull ancestry. I always thought of Puck as an inspiring survivor, a street dog, a fundamentally sweet animal whose loyalty and companionship to J. was the sweetest thing about him, as was her unwavering devotion back. It seems one of the best things you can say about a dog, that he hung in there through the creation of many years' worth of art, like a midwife, the ultimate studio dog. I know he will be missed a lot and I hope there are no fireworks where he is now.