Fiona died two weeks ago. She was a darter. She was hit by a car. I saw it happen. As much as you can train a dog, put them on a leash, and teach them... some still dart. That crazy little thing loved to chase cars and bolted out the front door anytime she got the chance. She'd gleefully run around like a lunatic and then voluntarily come home. Chasing her was nowhere near realistic. I knew, eventually, she'd be hurt. She acted like she was invincible. Cars usually win. I've lost many loved ones in my life. Their deaths were strewn with all kinds of issues and history. The thing about the death of a family pet is that the memories of them aren't strewn with ambivalence and difficult histories. The memories of our pets seem to be only marked with moments of unconditional love. I LOVED Fiona in a deep way. Maybe more than my kids sometimes, but don't tell my kids.
I hated watching her die the way she did. Accidents happen.
I planted Peonies over Fiona's grave site this weekend. My last way to say goodbye.