We had to put our sweet chocolate Lab, Eddie, down this morning. He had a bad heart, and poor circulation was atrophying his back legs. He'd been going downhill, eating less if at all, moving less, barking at the garbage truck less, but we were hanging on. When Malcolm went to greet him and feed him this morning, he didn't get up, just lay on his stomach with his legs splayed, and looked at us with such sad, resigned eyes, which we took as a plea to help him out and let him go. He was almost 13. M and A and I took turns sitting with Eddie in the cool cellar where he sleeps, and at 11:00 a.m. we drove to the vet together. Andrew didn't want to watch him be put to sleep or euthanized, so he stood outside under the portico and watched the rain. The sun broke through the clouds around the time that Eddie went, which made A feel better, and us too. Like he died with grace. But now it's the end of the day, and there's still food in his bowl, fresh water, and no good dog to greet us when we walk in the front door.