JANUARY 11TH 2008

Two months ago we took a perfectly healthy dog to the Vet for a checkup.

Three days later we got a paw print of our deceased dog with our her name on it instead of the dog we dropped off.

Two months later there's no talking about it for me.

The wife talks about our girl Jill.

Me: "I can't talk about it." I walk out of the room.

Daughter Dawn, three days after Jilli dies, leaves pictures of her on m e-mail. Two months later I cannot bear to look at the pictures.

I am not nuts. I am grieving over the untimely death of my best friend.

Take my wealth. Take my left nut. But never take my dog. Never.

We have many good friends in Sebastopol. The wife and I have spent most of our life there.

Andy and Carol have to be the best. They knew our grief. They knew what Jilli was to the family. Their gift could not have been more generous.
Jilli was the best. I can't begin to tell about how special, how intelligent, how intuitive and how loved she was.

The wife and I have had many dogs. None match the quality of our Jilli. She was one in a million. Almost human.
How I long for one more run on the beach. One more game of ball. One more hide the bunny - you find it, Jill. One more "want treats?" to delight in her spinning around and around in joy, another ride in the truck, and so on . . . the list is endless. We did so much together.

We loved her so much. And Jill will be forever missed but never forgotten.

My grief for a dog lost is often overwhelming.

I want my girl back.