It’s been over a week since little Clinker died. I’ve been putting off posting the news because, well, it sucks. He forged through myriad health problems, psychological issues, and the deaths of various pack mates with remarkable stoicism. He was just determined to be happy. I mean, look at that face. Always a smile, no matter what. He endured infections with a shrug; dealt with the loss of an eye with similar nonchalance; reacted to total blindness with an astounding adaptability. Through it all, that same happy smile.
Clinker spent most of his life at the beach in his Mexican home town of Barra de Potosi, his favourite place, and we were lucky enough to spend some of his last days there with him. He couldn’t watch the waves, couldn’t marvel at the sunset, couldn’t see the treasures that washed ashore. But he felt the shifting sand beneath his feet, he smelled the salt air, heard the crashing surf. He knew where he was, even if he couldn’t see it. On our last day, as usual, he took a few tentative steps. When he remembered nothing stood in his way, he quickened to a trot, then broke into a run, his ears flying, his smile wide. I like to think he‘s still running, clear-eyed and carefree.