I had spent what seemed like hours trying to dig the hole and still seemed to be only half way there. Tired, hands blistered and bleeding, I crawled out of the grave to be and headed over to the truck to get a drink of water. I swished the cool water in my mouth then spit it out. Flies, already performing their lithe less dances had almost completely covered the body. I gazed down at the offender, he was my oldest friend. Death was inevitable at his age. His wheezing breath could no longer compete with his racing mind. I turned to back to the task at hand and grabbed the shovel from where I had left it.
Hours later the hole was finally large enough. Using the forklift I moved his body from the trailer behind my truck and lowered it into the earth. I put the scoop back on the blades of the fork lift and began filling in the hole. I crawled out of the forklift and looked at my handiwork. I knelt where I knew I had put his head and touched the soft soil covering it. “Shadow Dancer,” I whispered, “May you be the fastest race horse in heaven.”