I promise I am almost done talking about Rowdie Dog.
I just want to be able to look back one day and to remember that, in the days leading up to his death, the big yellow dog had the chance to live.
He got to snack on extra biscuits and to eat a steak cooked just for him, on the grill under which he used to wait patiently for Hugh to "accidentally" drop a morsel during grilling.
He got to lay in the sunshine with his buddy, Roper.
He went swimming in the pond at the park, where he fetched his floating toy until he was exhausted, at which point he took a snooze with his boy.
He spent his last night cuddled on the living room floor with that boy, and, for the first time in weeks, he slept peacefully through the night.
He had people stopping by throughout the weekend to say goodbye, and he got to visit with Queen B on Facetime.
He ate tomatoes, catching them mid-air, the way he liked to do; I must have tossed him twenty.
On his last night, he got a bath and a good brushing, leaving his coat glossy, soft, and smelling of baby shampoo, which, is how I will always remember him.
His passing was peaceful; we said good bye on a grassy patch under a flowering crab apple tree on the property adjacent to the vet clinic. I know in my heart that he was greeted by his old friend Jake as soon as he crossed that Rainbow Bridge, and, I know in my heart that we will see him again. After all, everyone knows that all good dogs go to heaven, and, Rowdie was a very good dog.