Chloe wandered up on our doorstep in Southern California on Christmas Eve 1967. I was 10-yrs old and we bonded immediately. Our family moved to my grandfather's farm in Oregon June of 1968 where Chloe and I hiked, swam and played together because she was my best friend and I hers. She got sick during the summer of 1977. I couldn't leave my job so my aunt took her in. She was riddled with cancer so she was put down alone and frightened. I regret everyday of my life for not telling my boss where to go and just drove over to be with her. I mourned her death hard until my daughter was born in 1985. I was then able to let go and remember the good times we shared. I'm 62 now. My brother, Uncle and I still own that farm. Everyone is gone. The farm is quiet but when I walk out to that field where I buried her, she's walking with me. I truly believe we will be together again where I can hold her and tell her I'm sorry.

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