Death is a strange creature which comes in many flavors. There are those deaths that attack without warning, smashing one's world apart with the crash of cymbals and the ripping and rending of earth. There are those deaths that linger, oftentimes leaching a dull poisen of despair, drop by drop into the soul. And then, every now and then, if one is very lucky, and leaves one's heart open to the possibility of risk, to the possibility that where there is sorrow and grief, there can also be compassion and kindness, there is a death whose elegance, and sweetness is so fine, that to participate in such a crossing is to have an ephemeral fleeting moment of knowing divine grace. My opportunity came in the crossing of a small, four-footed friend, a non-descript golden Mexican mutt by the name of Aleuchi.