Jeff and I have both said it: we keep expecting to run into Foxy. Funny how a dog can make you feel at home. She was a sweet dog. Not all dogs are sweet. Some are majestic. Some are wired. Some are aloof.
She was sweet.
Yesterday, I ran into Randy, who was huddled with Charlie, another homeless guy in the doorway of a store that closed recently. Randy showed me the medallion made up of Foxy's ashes on a leather thong around his neck. He seemed nervous, worried he would lose it. Charlie, who is almost almost silent, piped up, "Once, Foxy saved my life." Randy said Charlie passed out once, and Foxy licked his face until he woke up.
Good girl, Foxy. 
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