We piled everything into the car and off we went with our carload of food. When we got home, I could hear Izzy barking. I was mad at myself because I forgot they were still back there. I've never done that before. I ran through the house to let them in. Dottie didn't come in. She would never not come to me. I knew.

Last Tuesday John had asked me to make dinner for him and his band members. He promised them my lasagna. So I

I grabbed a flashlight and ran out the front door. As I rounded the corner to Blossom Hill, I saw what I thought was a jacket in the middle of the road. As I got closer I saw her tan markings and little white patches of fur. Her lips were gone. I almost collapsed on the street. As I stood there staring at her, John pulled up in the car and yelled at me to get in the car. I just ran. Back to the house to keep Brooklyn from getting too close. The crying and sobs from Brooklyn and myself were heart wrenching to hear and feel. I was in disbelief.

John wrapped her in a towel and placed her in a box out in the garage. He told us she looked really bad and that we shouldn't see her. After I got Brooklyn calmed down and put to bed I sat in my grandma's chair and wanted her on my lap so badly, I kept looking at the edge of my chair for her to be asking to be picked up. Since losing my driving privileges Dottie has been my constant companion. The other two dogs are great but Dottie she was my shadow. She was sweet, loving, neurotic, quirky, funny and playful. She would look at me like I hung the moon. And she was lying in the garage all by herself, cold and dead.

I walked out to the garage and saw the box. It was closed. I wanted to remember her how she was when I saw her last but I also wanted to hold her and be close to her. When I opened the box I saw the white daisy towel that John had wrapped her in. I felt for her back legs and lifted the towel. Her legs and body looked fine. I grabbed the box and brought it in the house. I stared in the box just looking at her cute, little body. I peeked at her head eventually. Her cute little ears were untouched. One side of her face looked fine, the other was bad and I couldn't bring myself to uncover her mouth. I already knew how it looked. I slid my hands under her head and body and lifted her out of the box. I sat in the rocker for hours, sobbing into her towel and telling her how sorry I was for letting her die. I knew though that my night wasn't over. As much as I didn't want to stop holding her, I also knew I couldn't have Brooklyn see her this way.

I carried her around the garage and backyard looking for a shovel. I knew we had a small one we had used to plant planters the previous spring. I walked out of the front door to the flower beds and tried to figure out the best place for her. I put her down and starting digging. On my knees, digging sometimes with the shovel, sometimes with my hands I finally got it deep enough. I wasn't ready to let her go yet. I picked her up, brought her back in and put her on the table then washed my hands and under my nails. The earthy smell of the dirt being scrubbed from under my nails hit my nose and knew that smell would forever remind me of my quest of putting her to rest.

I grabbed her once more and sat down. Petting her, trying to hug her close, make her warm again. I held her little feet to warm them up and then would touch them gingerly, it was almost like she wasn't gone. She was just sleeping.

Even when I finally did get up to take her outside, I wasn't ready. I doubted I ever would be. I went to get her a small towel to cover her face and body. I couldn't bear the thought of putting the daisy towel in the ground too. I know it sounds macabre but seeing what was left of her, her blood, makes her still exist. She fit perfectly in the hole. She looked so sweet and peaceful. The first scoop of dirt was the hardest. I stopped and touched her again and resisted the urge to pull her out. I still wasn't ready but I continued to cover her. When I was done, I sat next to her and sobbed. Actually I hadn't stopped all night.

Why did you squeeze under the fence? Why did you leave the yard? Were you scared? Did it hurt? Did the car even see you? Were you looking for me? Of course you were, you always were.

I look out the window and see her little grave or I'll sit on the couch and wait for her to run by after a bird. Sometimes I swear I hear her throaty little bark. I still can't believe she's gone. I miss her so bad.

Her short presence in my life was a gift. I will be forever grateful.