Just a Dog

Notes on burying a loved one

“Addy in the Squill.” Photo by Lily Bolton

We spent the afternoon digging a hole: two feet wide, three feet long, and two feet deep. Do it right, do it once. The work is hard, there are rocks and roots in the way. “How did they build the fucking pyramids?” he asks.

We spent the small hours with a dying dog — sweet angel Adelaide she was, or is — still here, still everywhere. The newly dead aren’t dead at all, but…