R.I.P.

It is with deep sadness that my pack of dogs has been reduced by one. I found Sarah when I got home today from a conference in San Diego. She passed sometime between last night when Pete and Steffi checked on the animals and today. I came home briefly at 3:00, but didn't see her and figured she was sleeping under the deck, but when I got home the second time I saw her just next to the deck in the dirt. My mom, dad and Pete and Steffi came to help me bury her this evening in the Little Backyard.

Last week Sarah stayed in during Pete's party, basking in the male attention and frolicking around like the filthy whore she was when men were around. I think she said, "That was the best it's gonna get, and I'm tired of this bullshit." And went to sleep. Steffi said it was the best gift a dog could give its owner, not having to make a choice. So we buried her in her skinny girl collar, wrapped up in two blankets in the Little Backyard. Steffi brought some flowers and a little cross. I inherited Sarah in August of 1999 and the conservative estimate of her age then was at least four thought more likely six, so that made Sarah Very Old Girl at somewhere between 15-17 years old. In her younger years you could tap your chest and she would jump straight into your arms from a sit. I am most definitely Sad Girl and even Randi, Earl and Clark seem to be more subdued.

Sarah Warah