09/08/2023
Carl Brenderson, Carl, Hal, Bunny Boy, Bun, Burger Time, Burgs, Boogie, Boog, Little Buddy, Bud, Bood, Ding D**g Doggie, My Little Floofy Angel Baby… Shed this mortal coil and crossed that rainbow bridge to the special place where all the good boys go. He had a long and wonderful life for a little dog and I am grateful for all the time that we had together, and all the friends he made along the way.
I remember going to walk the dogs at the MSPCA one day while having a bit of “the sads” just a few weeks after my 24th birthday. I had no intention of actually leaving with a dog, but when Rory, who has always very easily talked me into doing things I shouldn’t, said “yo, you should get this fu***ng dog” I knew I wouldn’t be leaving without him. (Maybe I brought Rory with me so he would talk me into it… I don’t know.) The name “Bing” would be staying there though. His name was Carl, and that was it.
Right from the start, he was a good boy. He was the perfect dog for me. He was never crazy and anxious or clingy the way some little dogs can be. He was (mostly) quiet, and house-broken, and very well behaved, though not especially well-trained (no recall). He liked to sleep in. He liked cats. He liked his lambchop toy and the shark puppet. He liked the chicken chips from the Polka Dog bakery. He loved living in JP. He had the same leash from day one until the end. He was hardly ever sick. He was down to do whatever I was doing- whether it was riding around in the bike basket, going to parties, or bbqs on the 4th, long car trips, or sitting at home and doing nothing. He did not like bigger dogs, high fives, small children scared him, and he didn’t seem to enjoy nature too much unless he could run around without a leash. He also had a vibrant social life that often did not have to include me. When I had to leave town or if we went camping (which he hated doing) I’d leave him with his friends and would sometimes get calls from other people letting me know they just ran into Carl with so and so at some rager downtown. Or I’d find photos of him being passed around like a little lamb on the internet. He was an enigma wrapped in sausage. He was very much his own dog.
I was just lucky enough to get to share my life with him for as long as I did. When he ran away, I was devastated, but also moved by how much people loved him and were willing to help look for him. I was grateful for that and elated when he returned a year or so later. My life had changed so much though, and he was noticeably older, and slower, and unhappy having to share lap space with an infant who had unpredictable movements and loud squawks and squeaks. It felt selfish to keep him in a space where he was unhappy just because I loved him so much, and I knew that giving him to Shamus and Bethany was the best thing for him.
They kept him going for another five years. Five years of running through fields of flowers in Canada with a hot, young chihuahua named Mabel. Five more years of hot garbage breath kisses, and zoomies, and bad haircuts and the biggest, baddest eye boogers you’ve ever seen. Five more years of prancing little walks, and watching COPS, and lounging all day in a sunny spot. Five more years of a full and happy life that I knew I’d be unable to provide. He gave us all nearly 20 years of a truly legendary doggie life. I will be forever grateful to have had so much time being his dog mom/ roommate, and getting to share him with so many wonderful friends who loved him so much. He was all our dog. I will love him always. As I love all of you.
