She’s not the smartest dog in the pack. She is the fastest, and it turns out maybe the most tender.
She circled back around me and led me on down the path. She’s not the shepherd but she was shepherding me. This was more of a ‘come quick Timmy is in the well’ effort than she had ever made. I opened the door and let her in Mam’s house. She scouted around and circled back. Sniffed and searched again. She stood at the door, confused.
“She’s gone” I told her. She didn’t understand. She didn’t want to leave but finally gave up. We went back to our own porch, lay down looking at Mam’s little cottage, and cried.
