2029 Okay, Jim thinks, she was old. She had cataracts. So what? She didn’t need to read a dataslate. Her hearing had largely faded. But she registered the clink of a spoon at mealtimes. She smelled bad... so what? Ringer had been Jim’s friend and familiar. The move from southern California to Boston had been hard enough on Jim, but the freezing weather and endless grey skies seemed to drain life from Ringer. Her filmy eyes implored, a whine in her voice chided, Make it warm! Her every arthritic step made Jim ache. A stab of pain shot through him each time she fell. A boy and his dog. Ringer was eleven, and then—no more. Tips from, “Coping With The Loss of Your Dog”It is normal to feel angry “God help me, Marta, I’m about to explode.” “Shhh...querido. Just let me hold you for a while.” “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND DAMMIT THAT WAS RINGER.” It is normal to feel depressed “Jim, it’s been a week. Are you going out? What about your job?” “Leave me alone.” “It’s not just you.
