My dad's dog had to be put to sleep today. He went everywhere with my dad. Everybody at the hospital (where my dad was a doc before he retired) knew Duncan. A few years ago, a 95 year old patient of Dad's passed away and, no fooling, left Duncan his 1968 Chevy pickup. His kids called to tell him about the provision in the will. At that time, Dad was driving a 1966 Dodge van (and even then, 1966 was many many years in the past), so Duncan's 68 Chevy was a step up in the world for them both. The gentleman lived down the road from us and Dad and Duncan made house calls there, just to keep an eye on him and make sure he was OK. Duncan's illness was short, which was a mercy, but he deteriorated so fast there wasn't really time to say goodbye. My brothers came over to help bury him out by the barn. Today, when I talked to Dad about Duncan, he had to turn away, because he was too upset to talk anymore. And that was very sad. The house seemed very quiet without him.