Ralphie’s Good Run
I felt a tremble in my wife’s arms when we hugged.
She had been braver than me. She was the one who made the phone call. Went over all the details with the vet. The dog’s age. Fourteen-and-a-half. His weight. 50 pounds, maybe a couple less. No, we wouldn’t need his ashes back. Nothing of what mattered could be contained in a handful of ashes.