Photo taken: August 24, 2012
Though I’ve solely been a cat person in the nine years I’ve been out on my own, my family owned a number of dogs throughout the years. Pictured above is the last mutt I shared a residence with, and who also has the distinction of being the longest living pet we ever had (And, as you might expect in a household with five children, we had oh so many). The dog’s official name was Dante (My Mom had a thing for Colorado Rockies outfielder Dante Bichette, and it was technically her dog), though I had the more fitting epithet for him… Beast. If you ever emailed me before, and wondered why my address contains the words “little beast” in them… this dog is why. Beast was a “miniature” dachshund in name only, and is responsible for giving me my total non-appreciation for ankle biter dogs due to his extremely vicious nature towards anyone other than those of us who lived in the house with him. The Beast was born in September 1997, and began terrorizing The Bridge in March 2014… a 16 and a half year life that falls on the top end of his breed’s average lifespan. Despite his many, many faults… living with him for just over 11 years did earn him a spot in my cold black heart, and this is the only halfway decent photo I ever got of him.