On Wednesday, at 8:30 in the morning, Cait carried Dudley down to the yard. As he had done every morning of his seventeen years on this earth, he tilted his nose to smell the air, looked up at the sky, and waited patiently for his breakfast. Not even nine in the morning, and the air already carried the promise of 80-degree heat, perfumed with the honey-sweet fragrance of blooming little-leaf lindens, for which our street is named.

And then, without warning, he fell to the ground and convulsed in a brief seizure. Despite our desperate rush to the emergency vet, Dudley T. Earsworth slipped away from us.

For seventeen long years, Dudley was the stubborn, spiteful, but loyal friend who defined what it means to be "not an easy dog" — and we loved him all the more for it. From the very beginning, he carried himself with the confidence and attitude of a much larger canine. He started tussles he could never finish and, ever the grouch, barked mercilessly at any dog or child having fun—which often found him bowled over by his larger siblings.

Yet there was never a doubt that he believed himself the alpha of any pack he encountered.

His adventures carried him from coast to coast, with stops at mountains and deserts between. He ran wild in the Salinas back country and went mano-a-mano with Baltimore alley rats. Along the way, he helped raise four children, teaching them patience, responsibility, and the art of keeping food out of reach.

Food of any kind was his greatest temptation. In his more spry years, Dudley concocted increasingly elaborate distractions to climb onto our table and snag a bar of butter or a slice of pizza from the dish. We couldn't help but admire his determination, even when catching him mid-heist. Once, he climbed into Cait’s purse when she wasn’t looking and ate a massive blueberry muffin—a surprise snack intended for me—wrapper and all.

Through cross-country moves, family changes, and the passing years, Dudley remained a constant companion.

Farewell, Duds. May you find sunshine to bask in through eternal Spring, and yes, all the muffins you could ever want.