Rio, the first dog I ever lived with, died this Tuesday. he had been pretty ill, but was still having more good days than bad days. Sunday he stopped eating and we knew it was near. Tuesday morning, while weak, he managed to get downstairs and outside to rest against the stone wall that runs through our backyard. he stayed there all day. I came home and thought it might be a long vigil, so I gathered up a bunch of candles and lined them up on the wall. I patted and spoke to him and he seemed glad that I was there. as I was lighting the candles he took one heavy, labored breath and that was it. I wish Mark had been there, as he lived with Mark before we met. but I am glad that I could be there and that he was not alone.

Rio was a major part of Dusten's healing. when we adopted Dusten, he and Rio sort of adopted each other. the unconditional love of a dog can be magick. Dusten was away and not due back until early July and we were afraid that Rio might die before Dusten returned. he made it, and having Dusten back was like medicine for Rio - he bounced back about a month in terms of energy level. Dusten was pretty good about it. He sang a few meaningful songs as we buried Rio near the peach tree. Mark and I still intermittently cry.