Elderly three-toothed dog's ashes are home.
It seems so strange, that the flesh-and-blood creature who was such a stalwart companion is now naught but cremains. It is hard to believe that I will never again hold him as I used to do: tucked under my arm, my hand at his chest, with his front legs dangling down between my fingers. He normally didn't like to be picked up -- but when I did so, he would relax into my hand and arm, and look alertly around to see where we were headed. I am glad he felt safe with me.
Rest in peace, my fine fur friend. I miss you.
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