Sitting with Sadness

This photo was taken last week when V. and I were in the backyard, picking radishes and enjoying the sunshine. Loki, aptly named after the Norse god of mischief, was a constant companion, though he had limited amounts of patience with V. since she's still so young. L. and I always knew he was a dog in a cat's body (the best of both worlds for us, really, since L. is a dog lover and I love cats). He was fiercely loyal and protective. He would growl from inside the house when someone he didn't know or trust came onto our front porch. He would defend his territory against dogs, raccoons, and possums. Once, he even chased our Doberman around the house when Turkish ran to the door to greet me; Loki thought the dog was attacking me. Loki found us, six months after L. and I were married, and estimates of his age placed his birth sometime around our wedding. He was certainly a gift to us.

Loki was run over by a car on Monday afternoon. Now he is buried in our backyard, close as he always was.