“I want to say goodbye to my buddy,” said Uncle Hank. “Is he already in the car?”
“Yeah.” My wonderful beloved uncle, age 91, followed me out to the garage where Cody O’Dog lay in his accustomed spot on the back seat, ready for the long ride home from Montana to California.
“Good-bye good buddy. It was good meeting you. You take good care of Martha Ann.” Uncle Hank put his arms around my big dog’s neck. The two had formed a solid bond in the five days of our visit.
when they’d said their good-byes and the back door was closed, my uncle opened the garage door and I drove out. Uncle Hank closed the door and as I pulled out of the driveway, I looked back to see my old uncle standing in front of the garage door, saluting us as we drove away.
And that was the last time I will ever see my Uncle Hank.