Oz was a special dog. He had giant ears and great big marble eyes that blinked one after the other instead of both at the same time. More importantly, he was a massive piece of shit and an unrepentant asshole. That being said, no other dog has done as much, impacted as many, or left as big of an imprint in as many stupid ways.

Oz was the star of an international graffiti campaign- you'll find him in all five NYC boroughs, 10 states, five countries, and 3 continents. He was a playable character in two video games, and the subject of hundreds of memes and pieces of art. He roadtripped crosscountry, flew first class in his own seat, and was carried in luxury more than he walked. He visited museums, concerts, and art galleries. He was snuck into more events than most people are invited to, and liked grimy bars and bodegas that were full of smells. He was a minor internet celebrity.

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Across a decade, Oz's picture was a daily part of the lives of over 1,000 students. They replaced "kick me" signs with "Ozzing", vandalized a whole school with his image, and formed an "Oz Gang", complete with vulgar gang sign. He became a school mascot.

Oz was a menace. He had no friends, and didn't want any- he barked at every dog he saw. You could tell when he was angry because he would pee on the floor right in front of you. If you were eating, he would bark until you shared. Half the bed was his, and if he left at night, he would bark you awake to pick him up, even though he could climb the dog stairs. He stunk.

Oz would kill for cheese or a french fry. Before his stroke, the only word he knew was "cheese", and after, the first word he learned was "fry". Every Sunday we celebrated "Sunday Fryday" and split an order of McDonald's fries. His favorite cheese was mozzarella, torn into long strips. He could eat anything, even without teeth- he gummed through his food with a tenacity that was inspiring.

Despite eating nothing but french fries and cheese, Oz lived to over18 years old. He was the oldest dog I've ever known. He overcame bad lungs, a bad heart, bad legs, and bad eyes. Oz loved walking to the brink of death, then lazily trotting away when he heard the word "euthanize". Vets were always surprised by how spry he was for a dog who had been diagnosed with "dog diabetes".

Oz died on his own terms- in public, in my arms, surrounded by oblivious strangers cooing "what a cute dog", setting off a series of escalating and traumatic events that ultimately landed me in a situation worthy of a Coen brothers film and will inevitably lead to a lifetime of therapy.

What an asshole.

He will be missed more than I can put into words, even though I've done my best.​​​