I went on a long run with Ursus the day after Preston died. It almost seemed like any normal day since Preston had not actually come on one of these runs for quite a while. I got to the top of a path called “Up Route Trail.” Here, a forest road goes right or left. I decided to go left. This path wanders up to a spot where there is a rough-hewn bench which has a view of the Cascade Mountains, Mount Jefferson in particular.
On the bench was an orange leash, left in the shape of…with a large stretch of the imagination…a heart. I just stood there and cried. It seemed like some sort of sign, although I didn’t know of what. I still think of him every time I am at this bench.
"Heart" Leash, outline added.
My dog was beautiful. He was amazing. He was a scamp. He was an opportunist. He was a fly-away rascal. He taught me to love him unconditionally.
And I miss him.