Steve is outside, digging Tasha's grave.
No, she's fine. Really.
We're going away soon and our neighbor Rick will be house/dogsitting. Being the wise man he is, he asked where he should "put her" if she passes on while we're away. Ouch--good question. Steve and I walked around the yard, Tasha trailing us, to find a spot.
"Here's a good place for her to spend eternity," Steve said, pointing to a little grove of trees.
It occurs to me that I spent more time today dwelling on the patch of earth that will become Tasha's eternity than I have on the heaven that will be mine.