I’d just gotten back from Texas the day I took Ally to put her down. I had the lucky black Chevy Impala with her in the mercifully deep and wide rear bench seat. We stopped at the liquor store for a bottle of whiskey. We drove over to Rita’s for an ice cream. It was hot, sunny bright that first October day. I ordered a large cone of swirl custard for her. I ordered one for me. I handed Ally hers, she lowered it to the concrete and set to licking it up. When she finished, we walked with greater and lesser grace back to the black car, where I opened the right rear door, Ally pointed herself and put her first paw up on the chassis. I reached down and put my hands fore of her thighs and around her belly and helped her hoist up onto the velour platform.