Hunter in December, 2007. Photo copyright Wings, 2007; all rights reserved.
That's our beautiful girl, gone at age 7 to veterinary malpractice.
She adopted me the moment she saw me. I drove in, she and BearGirl came running to meet the car like a pair of large fuzzy bullets, and as soon as I opened the door, she climbed in and wedged herself under my legs on the driver's floorboards. I was hers from that moment on. [BearGirl, the adult, was a little more dignified, but not by much.]
She went through so much, toward the end. Much more than her little body should ever have had to bear. Griffin was inconsolable; he mourned her for a solid year. She was, truly, a furry bundle of unconditional love in its purest form, and the hole she left in my heart will never heal.
The time will be just before 4:30 this afternoon. I'll burn a little cedar for her where her ashes are scattered. I still think I see her sometimes, and I feel her around me every day.
We love you, little girl.
