Late yesterday afternoon, Debbie and I helped Paula C., a friend and neighbor, bury a dog that she had bred. The dog had been a champion Rottweiler, winning many awards over its too-short life. Yesterday he had some sort of seizure, vomited, aspirated some of the vomit, and died of asphyxiation. He was just short of nine years old.
In the summertime, our local soils are extremely hard – on the order of low-grade concrete. Digging a burial hole in this stuff is no trivial matter; with hand tools it would have been a very large job. Even for my little Kubota tractor with a backhoe it was a bit of a challenge. But we finally got it done, and a very sad Paula was comforted a bit to know that her beloved dog would be resting nearby...
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