This is a picture of my dog Rambler. He was the dog I had from ages 10 to 23, approximately. He was supposed to be my brother's dog, but Rambler and I knew better. He smelled bad because he would not let us give him a bath--as soon as we soaped him up, he would run off to the river. His was a true and solid love. I still miss him.
"If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went."
-- Mark Twain
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