1995-2011

"The hole could be a couple inches bigger on each side, so it fits in better," my dad said holding a shovel in two hands and staring into the  hole. "He.  I think it fits him pretty well."

After a long pause, Tim added, "He sure loved to dig."

I never thought in advance about what to do after Skookum, my childhood dog, died.  My energy and stress focused on fear of losing a dear friend of the last 16 years and closing a chapter of my life.  Logistics of the aftermath fell within the lee of the stone.  The size of the hole or what my brother and I were  going to dig with didn't come into consideration until after I had pulled out of the animal hospital parking lot.  Unavoidable details erode preconceived notions of what an experience will be like.  They make a story powerful and life real.