Last night, I woke up about 3AM from a deep sleep. My heart was racing. It wasn't a dream that startled me. It was a thought.
I thought that my dog Quinn had just died. He was curled up behind my knees sound asleep, but I nudged him anyway, just to make double sure.
I went back to sleep and didn't think about it again ... until just this evening.
My son Bryan came over with Bently.
Just as they were leaving, he said, "Oh yeah, do you remember Jake? Uncle Ron and Aunt Pattie's dog?" (ex-in laws to me now)
I said, "Yeah, Jake ... sweet 'ole Jake." My kids have loved that dog since day one. Jake is 16 years old, so he's always been around for them.
Then Bryan said "He died last night. Just had a heart attack in the middle of the night and died."