Tonight I look out into the yard
and it is vacant of the old soldier that
once owned it.
Pugsley lies with stretched out legs, his paws curled in, head
sloped to the deck boards. He misses his friend.
We will all miss Fireball, good ole dog, died at the age of 18.
well taken away and put to sleep as he wouldnt eat, or drink, his legs moved
only on quivers.
Dear Fireball, you were a good ole boy. We loved you.
Rest, and play in dog heaven.
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