Last night we lost our beautiful Jules.  He was diagnosed one week ago with an osteosarcoma in his front left wrist.  We thought we had more time.  But last night the leg shattered and the screams echoed through the whole valley.

We were blessed that he could die at home, surrounded by his family and even his other mother, Bimala  was there via Facetime from Korea.  The love of his life, Guinnie, was by his side the whole time.

Jules had a sweetness and innocence that you would not guess from his 90 pound body, his fierce racing tears around the pen and his big, deep bark.  He was a major racer, retiring at 41/2, which is a long career in the greyhound world.  But he was a tender boy, a honey boy, and my most favorite thing was to lie with his back pressed into my front. That was my way of earthing.  I was not the only one.

Last night, his death brought in a roiling, muscling storm – wild slicing lightening, blasting thunder and winds that tore the rest of the lilacs from their stems.  This morning, the wind is there and so is a deep burgundy iris, the first of the season.  Jules.

This morning, before I was awake, a hummingbird fluttered outside Pam’s study window, darting here and there and then staring at her intently through the glass.  Jules.

Jules – always beloved, always present, always in our hearts.  Thank you beautiful boy.

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