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Last day
March, 1987
Today, August 22, 2002
Zaphod died in my arms half an hour ago. I watched the life go out of his eyes. In the end I had to finish it. He'd been unable to walk or even stand for months. His back and his legs were gone. Today his kidneys had gone as well and he was in constant pain. You couldn't move him without hurting him.
I remember the day I got him from a farm somewhere up near Campania. I picked him out of a bunch of puppies in the bottom of an old oil drum. He was from a working line. His grandmother was away by herself over the hills bringing back stray sheep. That was nearly 16 years ago. Back then I was a lot younger, too.
Not long ago I felt like he came to me and we played with the ball again, like we did back when the picture on the main page was taken. Probably just my imagination, but I hope not.
TG 22/8/02
