[mrerick]

Steve, years ago, a friend wrote this a a similar time in his life....

The Place

There is a place where a dog goes when her fiercely loyal heart stops beating. A
place with a vast green meadow where she can sniff and hunt with her nose to the
ground and in the air. A place with a hill where she can stand proudly and feel the
wind lifting her long hair, renewing age-old instincts. A place with a field where
she can run in figures of eight, snapping and growling and threatening with glee. A
place with lush grass where she can nibble on the taller stalks. A running stream
which she can prance into and lower herself down to lap the cooling water. A place
with a large, leafy bush to provide cooling shade on a sweltering day.

A place where every dish of food has a raw egg blended into it. A place she can
have her ears scratched and her neck stroked at the end of a long, lazy day. A place
with nose deep grass where she can lie majestically like the sphinx and survey her
domain. A place where she can frolic in the snow, pushing her nose deeply into it
and tossing the snow playfully into the air. A place where she can run to fetch
snowballs only to find them become part of the mass in which they land. A place
with a low table to crawl under to protect her from thunder and fireworks. A place
where she doesn't have to get her feet wet in the rain. A place where she can growl
and bark at the mailman as if to protect house and home from her. A place where
someone will throw her leash for her to drag back and tug on until it's thrown
again.

A place where she can wag her tail at a friendly face or lick a friendly hand. A
place where she is rewarded for standing tall with her friends and masters through
all the joys and sorrows of life. God makes such a place where dogs go when they
die. The place is deep in a man's heart where she will live on forever.

And I know that's where Lola will always be.