It was almost 20 years ago that DC decided to revamp Superman. Of course, before they could bring in the new, they had to give a proper send off to the old. Alan Moore wrote a two part tale that was intended as both a homage and a final epilog for the established legend of Superman up to that point. There were lots of sad farewells and emotional endings, but most of them didn't affect me in the least. Barely in my twenties, I was nothing like the emotional softie that I am today. One scene, however, brought lumpy tears to my eyes. It was the scene in which Superman's faithful dog Krypto sacrificed himself to save his beloved master. As the kryptonite poisoning spread through his body, he let out a mournful howl and was gone. At the time it struck me as more heroic than any other act I had seen in comics. People, I thought, could reason and make a conscious choice to make such a sacrifice. They could weigh the pros and cons and calculate the implications of their actions, at least as much as any of us can predict what outcome our actions will have. On the other hand a dog would make such a sacrifice without really thinking. Krypto did it out of devotion and a sense of loyalty and love that went beyond thinking. That kind of devotion was difficult for me to comprehend, but it still moved me.

When my wife and I got our first dog that same year, I thought about naming it Krypto. It was a small cocker spaniel and very mischievous, so we instead decided to name it Loki (after the Norse god of mischief, half brother of Thor and the whole reason the Avengers got together in the first place). She was a quick and agile dog. If you were not careful she would slip past you as you walked out the front door and zip around playfully while you chased her. She loved to grab one end of an old sock and pull and shake it furiously until her eyes rolled back into her head. She was a quiet dog and only barked when we offered her a treat and said "speak!" In fact, she loved doing tricks and would perform various feats for anyone visiting our house in return for food scraps.

Each day when I returned home from work I would see her nose peeking out through the curtains of our window. She would jump onto the back of our couch and stick her head through the curtains to watch for us. I had no way of knowing if she had been there all day or if she could just somehow tell when it was time for us to be home. I suspected the former. Customers who have been coming to our store long enough might remember her sleeping the day away behind the counter. Even when she was awake she never made a sound. Dozens of times I heard a customer say "I can't believe that you have a dog back there! She's so quiet!" By this time she was starting to get old and a lot less active. Finally, we had to stop bringing her to the store and she stayed at home and slept most of the day, still happy and content, if only occasionally awake.

Loki died yesterday just a few days shy of her 19th birthday. At breakfast she ate a few puppy biscuits as she always did, then quietly went to the bedroom where she was obviously very ill. I took her to the vet and she was gone minutes later.

We buried her that afternoon and just like that, the dog we added to our family almost nineteen years ago was gone from our life. The Trekkie in me couldn't help but recall Captain Kirks words at Spock's funeral "Of all the souls I have encountered, his was the most... human." In truth, Loki's was not the most human. She never held a grudge. She never got impatient or angry. Even when my daughter (then a toddler) seriously hurt her back, she cheerfully continued to play with her as if nothing had happened. We love to talk about "giving unconditionally" but how many of us are actually capable of it? Frankly, I realize that I am not, at least not for any length of time. If I give love or respect, I expect to get it back in return. For me at least, that's only human.

Cognitive reasoning has its' benefits. Certainly we've gained a lot by our all too human quest for bigger and better things. But just think for a moment what our world would be like if us humans were able to give as unconditionally as your average family dog. It's a staggering thought. Surprising, isn't it, that people still use the term "going to the dogs" as a condemnation .

There's a new Krypto in the Superman comics. He's a little different from the original one, but it's still nice to see him back in some form. Real life, of course, is not that way. In the real world we have to cling to every moment with those we love before they pass, never to return. Loki leaves behind a family that remembers her for giving nothing but love. We should all be so lucky.