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Today's Cornershot inspired reader Lynda Knezovich of Roanoke to send a letter to the editor about her dog Buster. I promise not to print every letter sent in by readers of their beloved departed dogs, lest  this blog might become unbearably sad.  And i promise to restrain myself about writing about my pooches that have crossed the bridge. But this picture was just wonderful and I had to share Buster's story with you, too.

I was touched by Wednesday’s Cornershot piece written by Beatrice Iceman. We, too, had the “Best” dog. Buster adopted us in 1992 and spent all 15 years of his life warming our feet, giving sloppy wet kisses, and forcing us to play, even when the call of the sofa seemed much more appealing. I can still see him standing in the yard, with his soccer ball by his side, eagerly waiting for one of us to join him in a game of “kick and fetch”. His mouth would be pulled into a wide grin and his big wet tongue would be hanging out one side.

Near the end of his life his pace slowed and the most he could muster was to push his well loved ball out the door and down the steps - fetching was a thing of the past. He was tired and he let us know it. The hardest thing we ever had to do was drive him to the vet on that sad day. As sad as it was, though, we wouldn’t give up all the happiness he brought into our lives in exchange. Beatrice is right… he will never truly be gone.