I knew July 31, 200 would be the day my Boots went to the Bridge. For six months, she had been struggling, battling a progressive neurological disorder that, in the end, crippled her body but, very cruelly, it seemed to me, leaving her mind alone, alert, aware, loving to the end. The day started out in a fog, having been up the last couple of nights with my pup, who ranged from being uncomfortable to deep pain, not being able to get comfortable, and finally, not being able to get to her feet, her hinds not responding to a mind that wanted to get up, play, race against the wind and catch her ol' tennis ball all day. I managed to get her out the front door using a folded towel-sling under her hips, but she made it only around to the fence, before fatigue and sadness set in and she slid to the cool ground. And then, even with tears running down my face, having made the vet appointment for 2 P.M., she reached out and touched my heart as she had done so many times during my 12 years as her boy. She looked into her backyard, right at the lounge chair in the yard, looked back at me, and looked back at the chair. I shook my head, again awestruck at her willing me again, to spend more time with her. I went into the yard, brought the chair out near her, and she sighed and contentedly laid down on her side as I gently stroked her, watched her, as she lay in the warming sun at the start of the new day. I never took my hand from her, as the hours passed, we stayed side-by-side, again. I worked a little - she was always with me when I worked at home, and we had long discussions on work-related matters - but mostly I watched her, and watched the day unfold around the two of us. A couple of hours before our last trip to the vet (she always HATED the drive, whining all the way, but today, the absence of any protest was eerie; she wanted only to cuddle up next to me, get as close as she could, and talk as my wife drove us all to our destination), Boots struggled to all fours and again summoned me to take her around to the front of the house. I obeyed, relocating her first to a comfy patch of grass near the front steps, and then my lounge chair where I again took up a position next to her, stroking her and talking to her softly. It was as if, unbidden, she knew what to show me, and what I saw stirred me deep inside. Elsewhere, at work or awy from her, I never would have seen the FAMILY of beautiful cardinals playing in our front yard. I never would have seen the sky change from hazy yellow to bright blue, then seen white, gray and finally black clouds roll in. I never would have smelled the ozone in the air or seen the lightning snaking down from above, or felt a fine spray of misty rain that was oh so brief as it if almost weren't there. And I never would have seen the thunderheads part to the bluest sky or the brightest sunshine I had ever seen. And through all that time I stroked and cooed to my puppy and told her how much I loved her. I miss days like that.