I miss Mason like there is a hole in my chest. Though I know there was nothing else I could have done, I can't escape the thought that I failed to save him. But most dogs at sixteen die bye the fireside, slowly and painfully of old age. Mason went out of this world like a thunderbolt, saving my life and the lives of the three younger dogs. He was my puppy, my "grizzly", my brother, my friend, and he died as he lived: My hero. I love you, buddy. Goodbye.