I lost one of my very best friends a couple of weeks ago. Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler got too big for her britches and went snuffling along the road, probably in pursuit of a big fat rabbit, or some delicious early autumn scent. She probably never even saw the car or truck coming. Dennis laid her to rest on the hill by the round pen where we used to watch the trains pass by. I have not even had the heart to go up there. Yet. And her green-cushioned chaise on the front porch is heart-achingly empty.

Matilda-the-tenacious-heeler kept an all-night vigil right beside me when my Percheron horseToby was sick, liked yoga and strawberries, refused to be left behind, was undaunted and courageous in the face of high country hailstorms and thunder, protected us from rattlesnakes and coyotes, loved a good rollicking gallop, was thrown out of the barn by a despot barn cat and managed to remain her dignity, guarded the ranch, teased Teyla who hates all dogs, loved Toby about more than anything in the world, and kept me some really excellent and very fine company every single day and night.

I miss that freckled dog. Still look for her when I head down to the barn and then remember why she's not trotting along at my heels.

Until we meet again, dear friend.