Those layers of memories again--A year ago yesterday, I took Rem, just recently recovered from his operation, out by himself for a wonderful romp in the big nearby open field to chase squirrels up the walnut trees and gophers down their holes. And he slashed his foot and ankle open on broken glass. I've had mixed feelings about that field ever since, even though I continued to take him over there (closely restrained on a leash and with me leading the way through the tall grass) on a regular basis to dig for gophers.
Now there are 78 new houses built and being built on that lot. The walnut trees are gone. When out for a walk around the periphery, the dogs occasionally find little tiny bones sticking up out of the dirt. Could be chicken bones from a worker's lunch, I suppose, but I wonder what happened to all those gophers when they came through with the bulldozers.
I continue to have mixed feelings: Arghhh--they plowed under that field where Remington had some of his happiest walks the last months of his life! ... and... Thank the gods they've plowed under that field where a quarter of Remington's last days on earth were wasted with stitches and a leg splint and bandages, and now it'll never happen to another dog!