Scary.
Our dog Shirley is dying—in my mind.
She’s perfectly healthy according to the vet.
According to x-rays and bloodwork and diplomas.
But I have a feeling.
The problem.
We adopted Shirley when she was three years old because our energetic puppy, Raindrop, seemed to need a playmate.
Shirley was the shelter’s go-to for training and calming other dogs.
Soon, she was training all of us on matters of love and life.
There was extortion. There was crying.
Coming up.
Shirley worries me. And teaches me lessons on rolling over, sitting, and staying in the moment.
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