“We do this thing. We open our hearts to the world around us. And the more we do that, the more we allow ourselves to love, the more we are bound to find ourselves one day – like Dave, and Morley, and Sam, and Stephanie – standing in the kitchen of our lives, surrounded by the ones we love, and feeling empty, and alone, and sad, and lost for words, because one of our loved ones, who should be there, is missing. Mother or father, brother or sister, wife or husband, or a dog or cat. It doesn’t really matter. After a while, each death feels like all the deaths, and you stand there like everyone else has stood there before you, while the big wind of sadness blows around and through you.
“He was a great dog,” said Dave.”
“Yes,” said Morley. “He was a great dog.
– Andrew Stuart McLean, (April 19, 1948 – February 15, 2017)