R.I.P. Taco "Bell" Rainey

What an unbelievably horrible month for the loss of life April has become. My mom's little dog, Taco, had to be put down — on April 16, the eighth anniversary of my cat Charcoal's death — due to complications from Lyme disease. Mom only had him for eight months, but he was sweet, smart, and all around good for Mom's mental and physical health. Apparently, he began having nonstop, uncontrollable seizures, and he was clearly suffering, at which point Mom opted to see that he got relief.

I met Taco numerous times, and I was quite taken with him. A friendlier, more affectionate dog I don't think I've ever seen. He loved to be rubbed, and if you stopped, he'd boop you with his paw to remind you that it was not your job to stop rubbing him.

Taco had previous owner, who had given him his name, but when she passed on, he went to the local animal shelter. Mom adopted him in August of last year, and even though I don't think Taco is the name she would have preferred, she opted to let him keep it. She nicknamed him Taco Bell, and that just stuck.

With April apparently being the month for passing on — my dad, my cat Charcoal, my friend Lew Hartman, and my cat Chester — it sure has been a sad time for me. Fortunately, there have been plenty of positive things going on as well; but every death takes a little something out of me, and that is sad, as well as difficult. It's also just part of our journey toward our light being extinguished.

We deal. Don't have much choice but to deal.

R.I.P., little fellow.