He had been sick for a few days – coughing instead of barking at us when we tried to steal his treats or, God forbid, the rocks he preferred over toys. We took him to the vet, for medication. We left around 9:30pm, and he was still breathing-tubed, feverish, but we were sure he’d be okay. I was, anyway.

I don’t have kids; I have dogs. Three now, and I think they wonder where their fourth went. We gave him a good couple of years, but the office, where he laid at our feet and begged for our lunches is awfully quiet now.

*Agnes Sligh Turnbull