I was stunned and angry. And then I was depressed. So I went back and read Ray's old blogs. And I cried and cried. But I laughed even more. I read about all the stuff that Ray got up to and into when he was a youngster (the shoe tassels, the yarn, the toilet bowl brush and other miscellanies) and all the adventures we had together. I probably was irresponsible in some cases (walking him off a cliff was not a shining moment), but I did my best for my blind hound, despite the fact that I knew nothing about dogs, and quite frankly, I wouldn't change a thing. If I had crated him, as lectured, he wouldn't have had the opportunity to steal the prosciutto/mozzarella log at every party or do so many of the things that made his dark existence interesting.
Ray had fun. And I had fun watching him as he showed the world how to tackle life and live it to the fullest, despite the danger of an unlocked dog door and a non-existent crate.
|Jan 21, 2019. Ray's last day on this earth