R.I.P, My Sweet, Sweet Juno

I met Farmer H at the end of the driveway on Sunday, as I was headed to town, and he was coming home from a long day at his SUS2 (Storage Unit Store2). He asked if I had seen Juno, that she had not come out for the dry food that morning. I said no, and that she hadn't even scavenged the two dry pieces of bread that I gave Jack on Saturday, to which he had turned up his nose. Farmer H said he was going to look around for her, and start up the Gator.

My first stop in town was the Casey's. As I turned to slide down out of the driver's seat, I spied a penny. While opening my phone's photo app, I heard a text come in. It was Farmer H.

"I found her. She was in the dog house on the end of the porch. Neighbor is coming up to dig a hole so we can bury her."

It was over by the time I got home. The neighbor down the hill, the one my little Jack bit on the heel when Farmer H returned a tractor part that had fallen off in the road, brought up his tractor and dug a hole, since new-back Farmer H cannot dig nor climb on a tractor. He said he just saw Juno running around his field a couple days ago.

Farmer H said Juno was half out of the house, as I she had been coming out and something happened. She was stiff, but not bloated. So he thinks maybe it happened Friday night or Saturday, according to when he last looked for her. I regret that my fever kept me inside.

My Sweet, Sweet Juno. She was a good dog. We saved her from a roadside death, and she repaid us by being my loyal furry friend for 11.5 years. She had a good life, running free through the fields and after the Gator, barking all night, and stealing Jack's food. She knew she was loved.

I miss her terribly, and wish I had the opportunity for one more head pat, and one less, "You stink."

May you find forever happiness, my Sweet, Sweet Juno, on that big farm upstate, over the rainbow bridge.