Goodbye, Old Friend

Our family dog, Mankato, passed away over the weekend.  It was simply his time, living to the grand old dog age of 15.  He was the best of dogs — tolerant and gentle, friendly and kind.  When I close my eyes, I can still see him sitting behind the counter of the bookstore I owned for a couple of years, rising to greet each customer.  And I can still feel, as the two of us drove somewhere, his wet nose pressing against my fingers as my hand rested on the gear shift — because, of course, he always assumed I meant to pet him on the head as he sat next to me and I simply didn’t aim well.  You’ll be missed, old friend.