We are still missing our dog Hope, but it's getting a little better. I confronted my angst and went out to her favorite running fields by myself this morning. It wasn't so bad, really. I pictured her running through the tall grass the way she used to. She would run, gazelle-like, with her head appearing above the grass periodically. She was never a "proper" walker. She loved to stop and smell everywhere, and I always let her. When she was very young, she would follow me jogging for two miles. She wised up after a while. I won't forget the day I took her out running, and after about a quarter of a mile, she just sat down on the road, watching me run ahead. I finally stopped and turned to look at her. I could almost hear her words - "this is really silly, Dad - I'm not playing this game anymore."

Hope's death brought up several theological issues for my 4-year old. The first, of course, is "is she in Heaven with Jesus?" OK, I don't care what the Southern Baptist party line is, my answer is "of course she is, and she has all her legs and no cancer, and she's happy." If you, dear reader, want to tell her (or me) anything different, be my guest, but you had better be able to back it up :)

Another burning issue came up when my daughter decided to pray every day until God changes his mind and gives her back. "He'll understand - it was just a mistake." I had a fleeting thought related to the movie "Pet Semetary," but I let it pass.

My daughter is very compassionate, and she has really been good to her Mommy and Daddy these last few days. She brings us tissues and draws us pretty pictures when we get sad. Thank you, sweetheart.