Something was wrong with our Silky Brown Princess for 3 years but since the occasional gimpiness and rare but horrifying Bambi on ice falls didn’t progress-tail still wagged and she still smiled-we just had to treasure every minute we had, and watch and wait-as the muzzle and brow sent out their silver warnings. On June 18th, she went outside as usual, came back in and collapsed. Never got up again. I could support her forequarters and head for a weakly lapped drink every couple hours. Each time made her weaker. I prayed she’d last till my husband returned from helping our granddaughter move. She was his lap dog. He slept on the floor by her side that night. It took hours to find a vet who would come to the car so we could be with her. Hot as blazes. And a big hole to dig after. Our other two fur babies turned their noses in the direction she’d gone off in the car for weeks and waited. Then waited on the other side of their yard closest to her grave for more weeks. I don’t know if it is the expected yet unexpected suddenness of her passing, a space to mourn the grief and pain 2020 has brought, but we are both still waylaid by fresh and raw grief. I think our other two dogs, both seniors, miss her still, too. There are other beloved pets with her over the Rainbow Bridge, but this loss has been one I’m just not getting through this very well