Last Thursday was the 451st anniversary of William Shakespeare’s birthday.
Last Thursday I saw my first violet in the yard.
Last Thursday my favorite beech tree in the woods dropped its old leaves.
Last Thursday it snowed in the middle of the day.
Last Thursday I lost one of my dearest friends.
After the joy of an extra two years with Tilly after her original cancer diagnosis, we faced the sad news that it had returned. We’d hoped for a few more weeks, just long enough for her to savor more warm days, just long enough for me to finish classes and spend entire days in the yard or on the porch with her.
Last Thursday when I returned home from work, it was clear that it was time to ease her out of this 
life. I held her while Neal rushed home, and together we stroked her and murmured our gratitude and love to her while we waited for our incredible vet to come to the house.
We’re sad, of course. Tilly lived here before I did. Her love brought me back from the saddest periods of my adult life. Her empathy and sweetness, her humor and grace, her joy and devotion created hundreds of sweet memories. Tilly is the dog who made me a dog person.
Last Thursday a tear ripped in our world. We’ll look for her button eyes gazing at us, for her to tuck her head on a heart, in a lap. We’ll miss her.
Everyone thinks they have the best dog in the world. They do. I know I did.
