Last April, I wrote about my old dog Sherpa and how, it seemed to me, she had stopped trying to live. I wrote about how one morning she couldn’t or wouldn’t move, how she spurned her food. I wrote about how I carried her outside into the sunlight and sat beside her for awhile, waiting for her to die.
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Perspective, Pages 72 on 02/26/2012
Print Headline: Ignoring odds, the dog abides