...who died last night, as he told me he would. Eating until the last day, he then stopped wagging his tail to signal that he was going to move on. In the last few moments he discreetly found comfort by wedging his head tightly under the bed as if seeking to climb back into the womb.
Through fifteen of my most needful years he did not falter once in extending friendship.
His spirit is nowhere to be found in the dead carcass he left behind, what happened to it, don't know, something about God and heavenly fields.
I'll always carry a dog biscuit for any mutt that comes over.
May 2, 2007