January 1, 1753
Dwight’s life was bursting at the seams. He ate like a king and celebrated all the holidays. He traveled between two households and visited Canyon Lake and when the water was low and the footing was treacherous we’d carry him down to the waterline from the end of the steps so he could lap at the waves and dance in the shallows. Sundays we’d go to the open field in the corner of the park where he could run free and without direction, dragging me along as he stopped suddenly to smell something or change direction without notice. He loved to run down and up and back down and back up the grassy creekbed that cut through the field. We got to see him unfettered, jaunting about in an acre with no obstacles, never worrying about bumping into anything or knocking anything down. Now the house is quiet and empty. I still gingerly step around his sleeping places in the kitchen out of habit and still expect to hear him suddenly awaken and stand, eager to go out into the backyard. And when we close our eyes we still see him smile.
All Paws Great and Small Crematory
5611 E. Houston St.
San Antonio, TX