Barbie Perkins-Cooper, Author

Living Life in the Country As A Writer, Photographer

Dearest Readers:

Today is a day of remembrance and heartache for me. On Wednesday, November 21, 2018, we had to say goodbye to our precious little mini-schnauzer, Mr. Hanks.

Prior to us rescuing him and welcoming him into our family, he was an angry little boy who loved to bite — MEN! When we fostered him, I was told his story which I shall share below:

“Hank” as he was called by everyone who cared for him was basically abandoned after his master passed away. No one in the family wanted him so they took him to a kill shelter. Fortunately, the kill shelter contacted Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas. He was fostered by a woman in Myrtle Beach but she couldn’t devote the time needed since her pup was in hospice. Anita of Schnauzer Rescue of the Carolinas asked me if I would consider fostering him. Of course, I said yes, drove to Myrtle Beach to get him, and Hank and I bonded immediately.

That evening Hank bit my husband for the first time. While he lived in our home, he would nip at my husband’s feet, legs and hands, sometimes managing to leave marks and blood. A few weeks later Hank was adopted.

After his adoption, I had dreams about him. In one dream, he ran away and came to our front door. Quite a journey for him, but it was only a dream. I awoke to imagining Hank was at the front door barking.

In another dream, Hank ran away again, managing to end up on I-26. In this dream I realized Hank was doing his amazing animal communication skills to share something with me. A few weeks later, I heard from his adoptive family. “Hank wasn’t working out.”

I contacted Anita and that weekend I rescued him again, this time we adopted him. Over the years, Hank’s anger seemed to ease. When he wanted attention, he groaned. When at my desk writing, Hank joined me, curling his small body around my feet. When I walked on the treadmill, he joined me again, barking at me, letting me know he wanted to walk on the treadmill. Never have I had a dog who loved the treadmill like Hank did. When I get on my treadmill now, I miss him. Many times I’ve actually cried. Because of his athletic ability I started calling him Mr. Hanks, the Tank! He loved that name!

Last year, just before Thanksgiving, Mr. Hanks became sick. He would not eat or drink water. He refused to move around and he would not go outside.

Arriving at the vet’s office, he was examined. My vet said he was shutting down. After talking with Mr. Hanks, the Tank, I hugged and kissed him. He understood what I was saying and he kissed me on the nose. Hank wasn’t a kisser! No doubt this was his way of saying goodbye.

Today, I’d like to honor and remember my little Hanks the Tank. He found love and acceptance with us. As the tears fall down my face, I still remember him. Miss him, and love him.

Mr. Hanks the Tank, one day we will see one another again. I know you rode the treadmill to Heaven and I will remember you and love you, ALWAYS.

Mr. Hanks, the Tank

4 thoughts on “Missing Mr. Hanks, the Tank

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