Mid June, we discovered my little Rudie developed congestive heart failure. Her downward spiral hit fast.
The day before Father’s day, she died.
We “worked” together on this crazy writing gig for eight years. I miss her with all my heart.
I dedicated my latest nonfiction to my little girl:
For Ru. My Little One. Purty.
Eleven years weren’t nearly enough.
Godspeed, tiny girl.
Sigh. All I can say is she was a good dog. A very good dog.