Except for being dead, he looked perfectly fine.
It was summer and I reckon thirst killed him because they hadn’t been gone long enough for him to be starved.
It was a farm way down a lane on a back road.
The closest neighbors wouldn’t have likely heard the dog.
He had pushed his out through the board fence as far as he could but the dog house was jammed up too tight for him to have out.
Everybody back then had rabbit dogs and any number of people would’ve gladly taken him so I don’t understand it at all.
It’s something I’ve carried with me and always will.
Some mental images, you really wish would just go away.
I understand. I’ve got a few of those moments Myself.
Hang in there, Kiddo.