Goodbye Ken

Last week, on Wednesday, during a driving rainstorm, Ray's friends Ken and Miko moved away. Ray loved Ken and Miko. Whenever we walked around the block, Ray's tail would start to swing whenever we got about a house-length away from Ken's. Now when we walk around the block and Ray's tail starts to swing, I say, "Ken's gone Ray. He doesn't live there anymore."

Ray is not dissuaded. Yesterday, he pulled me up to Ken's house, climbed up on the front porch and lay down, Sphinx-like.

"Ken's gone, Ray. He's not coming back," I told my dog. "Lets go."

Ray relaxed a little onto his side as if to say "I'll wait. I know he'll be back."

I felt myself choking up. I found myself thinking of all of the people I've met since adopting this blind hound and how much he has changed my life. Someone that I didn't know two years ago has moved out of his house and I miss him every time I walk by. So does my dog.