We had a sad day yesterday. Yellow Dog had a bad habit of following our car out of our driveway and racing us as far as he could up the road whenever we left home. He would bark at the tires and run just as hard as he could, but never did beat us. Yesterday morning Alex, Jack and I were running low on screws for the deck, and decided to run into Grundy Center and pick some more up. As we neared the end of our driveway, Alex stopped because there was a truck coming down the road. Unfortunately, Yellow Dog continued out into the road, anticipating the start of our race, and was struck and run over by the other truck. The boys ran to get Shannon, and I checked on Yellow. I was pretty sure he was dead because he wasn't moving, was bleeding quite a bit, and didn't appear to be breathing. Jack and I started digging another hole in the pasture, and Alex and Shannon took care of getting Yellow out of the road. They discovered he wasn't quite dead yet, so Shannon went to get the shotgun. Fortunately, it took so long to find the shells (we hide them well because of all the kids in the house!), that he had died before Shannon had to use it. What a blessing. Alex and I had the responsibility of burying him. I'm so proud that my boys are man enough to handle things like this, because I tend to sob and bawl like a baby.
Alex took some great pictures of Yellow Dog just last Friday. I think we're done with new dogs for awhile. We've buried three in the past eight months. Sadie still lives with us. She is a great dog, and got about three times the hugs yesterday that she normally does. We'll miss our Yellow Dog.
"Even in laughter the heart may sorrow, and the end of mirth may be grief." Proverbs 14:13
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