Goodbye Jake, Goodbye Oak, Goodbye Home

There’s a huge, magnificent oak tree in our pasture that was little more than a sapling when our Idaho farmhouse was built in 1905. When Jake died it made a perfect final resting place for our much-loved, Lake Don Pedro-born cow dog. We like thinking of him nestled there in the earthy embrace of the old grandfather. Alive, he loved rolling in the cool grass under its canopy. It comforted us to imagine him there forever. Until now. I try not to think about that.