One of them any way. I had two dogs, one of which my dad was particularly fond of. His name was Jordie. Jordie showed up on my dads porch seven years ago and we've been enjoying his company ever since. I was cleaning my studio down in my dad's shop when my dad's phone rang. Some girl ran Jordie over at the end of our driveway. She called my dad crying saying she pulled our dog out of the road. When we got to the end of our drive from my dad's shop she had already left. My dad picked him up from the ditch and set him in the bed of the truck and we drove back to the shop. His body was twitching and his tongue was hanging from his limp mouth. My dad asked me to feel his chest to check for breathing or a pulse. As I felt Jordie's warm body I noticed that his right leg had been broken. I answered his request by shaking my head. I didn't feel like I could speak. After being around him for almost twenty years, today came the first time I've ever seen my father cry. We took turns digging Jordie's resting place down by the shop. It was crushing to cover up my pets face with dirt. We plan on planting some sort of flower or tree on his grave. Brittany is my other dog. She loved Jordie. She's been whining since it happened. They shared a pen and would cuddle up to each other in a yin-yang fashion. I feel bad that she's going to be alone. I don't know what to think. I'm sure he was having fun when he passed. I just want my dad to be okay.