Earlier this week, at 4 AM, I got a text from a friend who lives just up the beach. She needed help getting Lego into the truck. It was time.
So, Friends, of course I went with her to the vet's office because no one should be alone when they send their faithful friend to the Happy Hunting Ground.
Years ago I had held our Scout as she drew her last breath. Completely undone, I remember leaving the examining room to find my friend Beth waiting outside the door, baby on her hip, plate of brownies in her hand. She knew...
Anna Quindlen also knew. This, like all of her books, is a delight to read. I want to meet Anna Quindlen. I know we would be friends.
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