As I've blogged about before, one of Gertie's favorite pastimes is running steeplechase over headstones in cemeteries, so we regularly take her around to the local abodes of the dead for some R&R. Of course, we don't stop at cemeteries where observances are taking place.
Today while I was lunching with a friend from my lay ministry training days, Fellow Traveler took Gertie to what's become her favorite cemetery, a three-sectioned area with hills and valleys and over a century's worth of headstones to hop over or careen around. Usually Gertie will stay within sight...but on this particular day she sped down the driveway and disappeared.
Fellow Traveler called...no Gertie. So FT walked up and down the hilly graveyard, searching for her: "Gertie! Gertie, come!"
FT finally found Gertie. Sitting at the edge of a new grave, in the midst of mourners and clergy, gazing solemnly into the hole.
"At least she wore black," I noted.
3 comments:
That's actually kind of sweet...
Dogs are SOOOO incredibly intuitive. Precious story.
I find it hard to imagine anything that could have been of more comfort to the bereaved, than Gertie's reverent presence!
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