Oh, Danny Boy, the Pipes, the Pipes are Calling....

Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling
From glen to glen, and down the mountainside.
The summer's gone, and all the flowers are dying.
'Tis you, 'tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow
Or when the valley's hushed and white with snow,
'Tis I'll be there in sunshine or in shadow.
Oh Danny Boy, Oh Danny Boy, I love you so.
And if ye come, when all the flowers are dying
And I am dead, as dead I well may be.
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,
And o'er my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
If you'll not fear to tell me that you love me,
I'll simply sleep in peace until you come to me.

Danny, the best little dog who ever was... 17 years of love for his humans and a lesson in dying. He chased his first deer since we've been in California and never turned down a treat, even at the end. He was the first to head for the car and sat shotgun for me for years. I will miss him. He's buried across the meadow from Lucia's front door, through the arch of manzanitas and under a big madrone tree in a clearing. I didn't take him to Vancouver because he would have needed shots and he was just too sick to endure that. He decided to take his own trip, without me. I knew Lucia would take good care of him and she did, laying him to rest curled up as if taking a nap, wrapped in a sheet. Papa Louie held Malakai and sang a goodbye. Mali misses him too and still says "Dog?" when he drops his food "accidentally". He loved giving Danny bits of his dinner. Today he said "Dog?" and then, "Bye, bye".