Samson died today. At nearly fifteen years of age, that dog was a presence, a balm, a glue for every stage of our family’s life to date. There was an odd feeling of departure in watching him breathe his last this afternoon, as if some sort of tether had been cut and I was forced to say goodbye to an old life. An anchor? A balloon? Doesn’t matter. Farewell, old friend. Thanks for being you, beside me, for all of those years.
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