Here’s some music and scenery from our winter dawn hikes in Nevada’s Red Rock Canyon. It dovetails with the two most recent posts regarding my health.
When in the hospital and treading the misty line between here and the hereafter, my experiences fortified what I already knew. I’m not afraid of dying. I’d even like to think that I will go smiling.
But back then, Atticus was struggling at home and needed me. That drove me to return to Jackson. He waited for me, and these two warriors, who had seen so much together, were both fighting for our lives.
Atticus would surrender 13 days later, his body in my arms, his head against my heart.
All that ride home and into the night, I wailed and lit into God, begging, “Please take me, too.”
A week later, I learned of a street puppy on death row in Texarkana. He’d run out of options and had less than 24 hours before being euthanized.
For the first time, I chose a dog I knew I probably would not outlive. But the poor fellow was stuck with me. I was his o…
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