A text came from my mother today, informing me that we lost one of our sweet little dogs. I can imagine him, showing the intruder who is the alpha, protecting the others. The intruder,  bigger and stronger than little Winston, won the fight. I’m at a loss, feeling sad for my mom and stepdad, thinking of the little Yorkie who walked around in his imaginary top hat, carrying his cane and peering at me through his wire framed glasses. I’m sad to know that he’ll never cuddle me again, that I’ll never see him cock his head to analyze my words. Dogs are no easier to lose than people.

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