Hank

Hank showed up in our yard in the late fall, we think in 2001. He had been seen in the neighborhood for a week or so wandering around, homesless. He had probably been dumped in the country by an owner that didn't want to care for him anymore.
He was a little leery of us at first (and we of him), but being dog-less at the time, we fed, watered, and befriended him. He stayed.
He was like an overgrown puppy, full of energy. The vet thought he was close to 2 years old. The first winter, he slept mostly curled up under trees. I couldn't convince him to go into our doghouse. He had a thick coat of long black fur/hair, big paws, and a large frame. The vet thought he had some Newfoundland in him, but he was of mixed breed. We named him Hank (after Hank the Cowdog - a family favorite). His nickname was "Dufas" - - he definitely lacked higher intelligence! He loved attention and he loved to run and play with the kids, and then run some more. He was good with kids, didn't chase cars, and for the most part, didn't bother the cats. The farm responsibility he chose for himself was to clear the driveway of cats whenever we drove in and pulled up to the garage. The cats learned to scatter when patrolman Hank was on duty.
He was scared of thunderstorms and wanted into the garage when he sensed a storm brewing. He grew to be a large barrel chested bear of a dog. The last few years he started slowing down and he got fat and lazy. He spent most of his time in the shelter of the garage. He developed arthritis, and because of his size, he probably had heart problems.
This past winter we could tell his days on earth were numbered, and when the recent heat wave hit, we knew the end was near. We discussed having him put to sleep. Tuesday night he wasn't in the garage, and Wednesday we found him dead under a tree across the road. He was so heavy we had to move him with the skid steer. His funeral and burial took place in the back lot Wednesday afternoon. There was no next of kin.

Hank R.I.P.