It has been around four years since I had to put her down. She was not my dog to start with. I grew up afraid of dogs. They were mainly strays. Once a pack of them chased my classmates and I. We ran and jumped onto a little piece of dry land surrounded by water and only then they slowly left us alone. Bingo, the dog of the butcher living downstairs from us was different. He was old and good natured. We could step over him, and he hardly stirred. He was a gentleman.

My husband had a hip replacement surgery and I took over care of Cassie and bonded with her. She became my pal. She was stately, with dignity. She meditated. She could stay in the same spot in the garden for hours without moving from it, much to the amusement of our neighbors. Do dogs go to heaven? I hope so.