It was so normal, y'know... a couple of times every night, we'd open the sliding glass doors, and Koby'd disappear over the mound of snow into the night, off to do his business and have a bit of a bark. Tonight was normal in every respect, except for the outcome.

I'd been preoccupied for some time now with the idea that because I've spent (and will be spending) so much time away from home, that when the inevitable would come six or more years from now, I'd be irritated that I'd missed so much of his life. As it turns out, I wasn't that lucky.

The entire family's in a bit of a downer right now. My mother and that dog were inseperable, and so things around the house are not particularly rosy... My dad and the dog had a relationship that was indescribably unique, and he's distraught as well.

And let's just say I feel like shit, too...

So, if I'm around only a little in the next few days, please understand why.

Thanks for your time.

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The above post was mulled-over, composed, and posted during time Tom would have better spent on his plethora of homework and homework-related exercises. Now don't you feel special?

 

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"My Name is Elmer Fudd, Millionaire. I own a Mansion and a Yacht."
Psychiatrist: "Again."
 

[This message has been edited by Baloo (edited February 15, 2000).]
 

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Samaritan: "A good hot curry will help heal your wounds. That is, unless your religion forbids it".

Man: (Eyes growing wide) "No religion forbids a good hot curry".

-From some movie.