Ditto died.

He was 17 years old and my oldest son brought him home one day many many years ago. I loved him a lot and he loved me. I miss him terribly.

It's a bit funny how we developed together. When we both were younger we both were very busy. I had things to do and so did he. but these past few years we both are older and we fell into a wonderful old man kind of companionship. We both spent much more time in the house together.

On his last night he was laying on a blanket on the foot of my bed. And decided to get up on the bed but couldn't make it. I helped him up and he lay right in my spot. The next day he died right there.

I wrapped him in a swaddling and put him in a box with the lid open. I could see his little face. I kept him by the piano for a day. The next day I put him on the porch. He stayed there for the night. Then the next day I buried him in the back yard. He always loved it back there.

He had a good life. And we had a good life together. But I do miss him.