nothing more and would have been content if we’d been spared the rest, but no, you have to bite down on the hard part. I had written out the check but not signed it. Went to the kitchen to get the pen and scribble my name. When I came back he had been moved from his mat to a bin, swaddled in a blanket, and my wife was saying the last heart-breaking goodbye. She stood and I took the blanket and folded it over his head and that was the last time we would ever see Jasper. Carried the bin down the stairs to the car. A lady was walking down the sidewalk with a dog on a leash. The dog was delighted to be out. The doghug, a face buried in his fur, a ridiculous kiss on the fuzz of his muzzle. He would snort and sigh and burrow his face down into the nap of the mat, sigh, and get back to practicing the long song of silent slumber. It was around 6:30 PM when I heard it. Wife and daughter were out. House was silent. I heard the sound of metal tags. I stopped and froze and waited and I heard it again. Water in the pipes, nothing more. Glass in a window contracting. The normal sounds of an old house. I’m listening now and there’s nothing to hear. Because he is gone.



