I once got into an e-mail conversation with a psychology student who was ridiculing folks who think dogs are "little people". It wasn't the only thing he ridiculed, but I tried to change his mind, unsuccessfully. I finally told him that talking to him was like trying to describe the sunrise to a blind man who was convinced I was hallucinating. He agreed, and said it had been fun. I suspect the part about me hallucinating was what he agreed with.

Dogs are people, you know. A lot of people treat their dogs like things ... shovels and rakes and cars and such. Things. Not living, aware and feeling immortal beings like us. They think they can't talk. The reason they don't know dogs can talk is, they don't look and listen. Or maybe they just don't believe what they see and hear.

Billy on the John Muir Trail near Carson Pass, one of his favorite hiking places.

Like Mark Twain said, quoting the pilot who trained him on the Mississippi river boat: "When you have been on the river long enough, you will know, but you will never be able to explain it to anyone else."

On a sunny summer morning in the year 2000, after a full life of 19 and a half years, Billy's brave heart gave out.