my dog passed away today... passed away, I eupheme, except a generous clarity enters the term. he slipped into death, sweetly, tho Beth and I cried. and I told him he'd be running, running ahead. he was part husky, part German shepherd, that sort of thing. I nicknamed him Next County Brownie because (typical of huskies, I am told (by Beth, who had purebreds)) given the opportunity to roam free, he'd take it. if he managed to get away, he was prepared to cover the map. it's the husky nature to find the way home, but that's after sufficient time to explore. under previous ownership he got away, and was found in a restaurant dumpster, living the good life. 4 days before 9/11, I trotted off to the nearby farmstand for dinner fixins. there by the side of the road was Brownie. I was surprised to see him there, 1st. 2nd, that he didn't trot gleefully away when I saw him said something bad. I went over to him and saw a gash in his shoulder. which looked like what another dog might've done (Brownie himself was anything but aggressive). and then I noticed that his foot, which he held off the ground, wobbled. I pieced together that he'd been hit by a car. so he had a broken leg, which was really traumatic for us, worry and expense. in fixing the break, the vets only worry about the main weight bearing bones, so tho he healed, his leg splayed and he wasn't quite as devastatingly fast as before. he wore a cast for a while. I'd be up early in the basement, writing and would hear the dog pace. thump thump thump, it sounded nothing but like Ahab on the deck. and the 1st chance that he saw an unattended open door, out he dashed, luckily Beth was in position to catch the boy. memories now attended as the life that was lived. our home now feels empty. the cat, a nervous fellow, is disturbed. he really, I mean truly, idolized Brownie. and Brownie, who was cool as a yankee, never really seemed to reciprocate. he bullied the cat tho it often seemed in a protective way. when people visited us, the dog would shove the cat, who did not readily cotton to visitors, away. all these specifics define nothing, of course. I so strongly see Brownie in the green light of some endless field, running without time as a burden. loss is a saturation. death demands that we look. tomorrow I will not walk the dog. it has been a retelling of my father's death.