I was teaching at Fulton High School when our dog, Ellie, was stricken with anal cancer. She was only 11 years old and the UT Vet Hospital could do nothing to end her pain and suffering.
When she died, I was overcome with grief. I loved that dog. Even at school, just the mention of her name or anything about her would send me into torrents of weeping.
I was teaching senior Economics at the time, and my continual sadness made an impression on two of my students. They went to Morristown and purchased a puppy for me with money that the class raised.