We said goodbye to our 14-year-old French bulldog Fifi tonight. It wasn't easy, not even with the best vet in Little Rock, Laura Mehaffy,
holding our hands and crying with us.
I'm not going to attempt to match the likes of Mike Trimble's prize-winning farewell to his Irish setter or the other great dog writers who've gone before.
I loved my dog. She's gone. It's hard. But I think this is a good spot for dog tributes. Everybody has one.
Fifi loved to walk. She loved to be out on the lead. She loved people. She loved the sofa. She loved oatmeal squares. She snored like a sailor. You couldn't look at her and not smile.
PS — I named my dog for a dear high school friend, an ebullient woman who not only took no offense at being a dog's namesake but took pride in it. Tip of the hat, too, to Fifi Gill Martin
on the passing of her namesake.