It was Halloween. Frank was 1 year old. The twins hadn't been born.
The trick-or treaters had come and gone. I was putting things away, when the doorbell rang again.
I probably shouldn't have answered it, but figured we still had lots of candy, and were better off getting rid of it. So I did.
It was 2 guys. Both wearing pillow cases over their heads. Both with their hands out of sight. They said nothing. One started reaching into his jacket pocket.
Before I could slam the door, Blackdog suddenly lunged out of nowhere, growling and barking. She'd placidly laid in the hall and watched one group of trick-or-treaters after another, without moving. But now she was suddenly out for blood.
The two guys bolted and ran as she came for them. I grabbed her collar and slammed & locked the door.
Thank you, Blackdog, for everything. Your amazing 16 year run of devotion came to a peaceful end last week, and we will miss you.
Thank you for always watching over (and putting up with) us.
You've earned your rest, my furry friend. See you on the other side.