By Jarrid Deaton
The woman with dandelion hair sat down beside the receptionist and started
"That poor little dog," she said. "My mother made me wash its body and put on one
of its little outfits. The neighborhood kids came by for the funeral. Lord, they all kissed it to say goodbye."
"I'm sorry for her loss," the receptionist said.
"Yes, she is taking it really hard," the woman said. "My mother turned eight-five this
"So, they really had a funeral for it?" the receptionist asked.
"Yes," the woman said. "I couldn't go. My husband died that same day."