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</o:shapelayout></xml><![endif]--></head><body lang=EN-US link=blue vlink=purple><div class=WordSection1><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:7.5pt;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif";color:#1D2129;background:white'>I have been on the Daily Drool since its inception many, many years ago and the old timers have heard many stories of my husband, Craig, and his beloved hounds. Some may know from Facebook about the passing of my husband, Craig on November 1st. Craig loved his own hounds and the hounds of Daphneyland. In fact, just 2 years ago, as his condition deteriorated, the one place he wanted to go to "one last time" was Daphneyland. So we went to Daphneyland for him. He spent most of the week there loving on Tucker ... his personal favorite and napping with him on the couch. I thought I would share the tribute I wrote about Craig that was read at his Memorial Service. Please consider making a donation to Daphneyland in memory of Craig and his love for the bassets at <a href="http://www.daphneyland.com">www.daphneyland.com</a> or <a href="https://www.youcaring.com/bassetrescuenetworkincatdaphneyland-690337">https://www.youcaring.com/bassetrescuenetworkincatdaphneyland-690337</a>. <o:p></o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal><span style='font-size:7.5pt;font-family:"Helvetica","sans-serif";color:#1D2129;background:white'><o:p> </o:p></span></p><p class=MsoNormal>TRIBUTE TO CRAIG<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>My first memories of Craig are from the spring of my 4<sup>th</sup> grade year. I was walking home from school and some boys were harassing me as I carried my violin and was walking to my piano teacher’s house for my lesson. Craig’s brother was one of those boys and Craig “cleaned his clock”. Craig was in 6<sup>th</sup> grade and I didn’t know him but I sure was happy to have him keep his punky little brother and his punky friends away from me for the rest of that school year. I didn’t meet back up with Craig until September of my 7<sup>th</sup> grade year when he asked me to dance at a neighborhood church that had a monthly social for neighborhood kids. Within a month or two, Craig was my boyfriend and was meeting me at Whittier school to walk the 1.5 miles home every day. We fell madly in love, as only 13 & 15 year olds can. I am sure my parents were having apoplexy. At one point, my Dad said something to the effect that Craig was at our house so much, he might as well have slippers sitting on the steps by the back door. Craig brought his slippers over … my dad had a fit. Craig and I were inseparable and he defied his parents by coming to church with me and was baptized at West Toledo Church of Christ at the age of 16. Craig and I remained high school sweethearts until I turned sixteen and I told him I wanted to date other guys. He told me “it’s all or nothing” and we parted ways. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Then, shortly after my 19<sup>th</sup> birthday in January 1967, he showed up at my house one afternoon. He had enlisted in the Army and was home on leave. I came home from my cousin’s house and found him eating chocolate cake with my mom at our kitchen table. We went to Rudy’s and had a hotdog and then he left because I had a date that night. About two weeks later, I got a letter from him saying that he wanted to “pick up where we left off” (ever the smooth talker). I wrote back and said that if we did, we would be married in six months. I told him to think about it and write back. Six weeks later, after he graduated from Quartermaster school in Ft. Lee Virginia, he came home on leave. And as they say, the rest is history … we were married on August 28, 1967 at Fort Sill, OK in the Lawton OK Church of Christ . I dropped out of college and became an Army wife and by December 1967 we were living in Germany. Then the reality of being an Army wife hit hard when Craig was sent to Viet Nam on June 3, 1968. We spent our first anniversary 8053 miles apart. Craig returned on June 2, 1969 and our life resumed at Ft. Lee Virginia, where our daughter was born. It was there that Craig fell in love with another woman … a 6 pound basset hound named Goldie. We returned to Toledo in September 1970 as a family of four (3 humans and a dog) and began civilian life. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Like most marriages, we had good times and bad. The good times were very good and the bad times were very bad. But when we said, for better or worse, til death do us part, I really meant it. During one very rough patch, I told Craig that “ ‘til death do us part’ “ meant that he could die of natural causes or I could kill him. He looked me in the eye and asked me if I was serious … my response was “yes … deadly serious”. I think he revisited that thought on numerous occasions … I know that I did. Someone asked me one time if I had ever considered divorce … my reply was “no … but I have considered murder”.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Craig was a good husband and a good dad. He built couch cushion forts, ice skating rinks in the back yard, tree houses, Pinewood derby cars, had tea parties, had his nails painted on multiple occasions, dressed for Halloween, gave horsey back rides, played hide & seek in the house, played tag running in and out of the eight doors in our house, went to camp for a week with a bunch of 4<sup>th</sup> & 5<sup>th</sup> graders, was a Cub Scout den leader and pack leader, camped out with 8 scared little boys one snowy weekend, hung with the kids for cartoon marathons on Saturday mornings, hauled band kids all over the state of Michigan, never got tired of watching Star Wars movies for the 100<sup>th</sup> time, and drove us all crazy with unending monitoring of the Weather Channel. He loved his bassets and was an uncomplaining chief pooper-scooper at home and unpaid kennel help on the road at dog shows. He was the one, not me, that moved us from a one dog family to a multiple dog family … always feeling there was room for one more.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Craig never met a stranger. His favorite thing to make me crazy was to wander off in a store and “make new friends”. He could talk to someone for 5 minutes and know more about them than I would learn in 5 years. At dog shows, he would take off on his bike and be gone for hours … visiting with friends, making new friends and checking out all of the different rigs. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Craig loved to putz … in the house, in the garage, in his wood shop, in the yard … he loved bassets but he was really a terrier … always busy and always moving. Every year at Christmas, he would make the kids a wooden candle holder. For weeks he would be gluing up wood and then start shaping them on the wood lathe. I am not sure how much a 7 year old appreciated a candleholder but I am sure they are more meaningful now. I am sure he had the largest collection of nuts and bolts in the world … but always had to run to the hardware store for one he couldn’t find. And the yard … if I couldn’t find Craig, I would listen for the lawn mower … and there he would be cutting and recutting and cross-cutting the yard until every blade of grass was precisely 2.005 inches high and a beautiful diamond pattern showed in the grass. His favorite T-shirt proclaimed him to be head grounds keeper. Both of our kids learned to drive a tractor long before learning to drive a car. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Craig was many things to many people. For me, he was my rock when I was feeling down, my anchor when I was lost, my protector when life picked on me, my supporter (sometimes reluctant) when I decided to get my advanced degrees, my sounding board when I had ideas, my backup when I had challenges, my fixer when things were broken, my hugger when I was sad. But most of all, he was my best friend. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Alzheimer’s is a vicious disease and it steals the essence of people in little bits and pieces. With Craig, it stole his ability to communicate. But it did not steal his sense of humor. A couple of months ago, one of the care givers was trying to get him to talk and said to him, “Craig, use your words”. He responded, with just a little glint in his eye “Woof-woof”! The very next day, as he was staring out a window, I asked him what he was doing. He turned to me, again with that little glint in his eye, stuck his finger up his nose and said “Picking my nose”. About a month ago on September 26, 2016, Craig asked for a piece of paper and pencil. He wrote about 5 lines of words, seemingly disconnected and repetitive, but all correctly spelled and included significant dates. I could tell the writing was processing thoughts and memories of his time in Viet Nam. The most interesting thing to me was the last word … “forgiven”. What he meant only he knew but I choose to think that he was acknowledging that he was forgiven of his wrong-doings and he forgave me of mine. <o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>On Monday, October 31, 2016, after eating his lunch, he walked up to me and kissed me on the forehead. I asked him “Who am I?” He said “Sandi”. I said “Am I your sister?” He said, “My wife”. Then he said “I love you” and gave me a hug. I hugged him back, kissed him and told him I loved him. It was our last good-bye. Less than 24 hours later he was nearing death. He knew I was there and squeezed my hand … and he was gone. Goodbye my friend, my love. Until we meet again.<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Sandi Wittenberg<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal>Red Bay Bassets<o:p></o:p></p><p class=MsoNormal><o:p> </o:p></p></div></body></html>