We took Shane to Mother’s yesterday – we being Cameron and I. We had the leash that is like an infinite slinky; we had a 30-foot aircraft cable; we had the “when all else fails, squeak the Wubba toy.  He was so good in backyard, we were able to let him off leash and he followed Cameron around. They had a long spell of Wubba fetching while I finished up a tiny bit of mowing and then we went onto the front porch to sip drinks and snack. I put the red aircraft cable around a tall pine tree outside by the porch steps and we left the door open so Shane could come in and out at will. Then we all spent some time out front . . . and he was so good.

Well, one time he ran across the road to look at the neighbors’ little dogs and we lectured him up one side and down the other. Then we were playing Wubba in the west side yard and all of a sudden Shane took off toward the road. Cameron made a tackle . . . Shane slipped through and ran right into the back side of a mini-van driven by a Mennonite lady who turned around and came back to see what had happened.

It was the THUMP that got everyone’s attention.

We hurried Shane into the car and headed for the LaGrange Small Animal Clinic where Miss Alice and Lucy Lib and Tippy and Tiffany and Little One went with Mother. The vet checked him over and said he thought he was fine, and to prevent soreness gave him a shot of anti-inflammatory and some pills for the same purpose.

We talked about Miss Alice and Daddy and Mother and Miss Alice’s ashes and I started to cry from the stress of Shane and the memories of Miss Alice and Daddy and Mother. Cameron patted my hand.

We came home and told people and then later I told Quentin and I stammered, “You said he chased cars; you didn’t say he ran INTO cars.”