My father died in January. From the time of his first cancer diagnosis, he met the challenges of his illness with courage and grace. He was hardworking, kind and brilliant, and I owe him more than I can ever put into words.
Dad always said that a real dog was one you didn't have to lean over to pet. He loved all my dogs, though, and taught me to treat animals with respect and compassion. His memorial service was the weekend of the beautiful Zamora Hills Sheep Dog Trial, a trial we'd planned to attend together --- he mentioned it the last time we spoke. "Cattle on a thousand hills," he used to smile, quoting the psalmist (and the historian) whenever we drove through California's ranchlands. I miss my dad so much.
Dad's ashes will be scattered in Yosemite National Park, his favorite place on earth. Que descanse en paz.