The same family has lived in the downstairs apartment of my house since my grandmother lived here, since I was like, five. For almost that long, they've had a dog named Bo, a shar-pei. I remember when he was a puppy; by the time I came to live here, he was an old man.

I hadn't seen him around for a couple months; I was wondering if their son had moved out and taken the dog with him. The dog kennel was still there, with the cushions inside.

Today I was on my porch when Ed was coming in from work, and when we greeted each other, I asked him about Bo.

Bo died. Just before Christmas. I barely knew him and I loved him, and I could tell Ed missed him when he talked about how he'd fallen ill. I know he was part of the family; he'd grown up with their son, Luke. The yard below me felt different with the knowledge that Bo wasn't coming back.

8:01 p.m. 2004-03-15�