I'm Jane H and I donate to the slowdown. I've loved the slowdowns format and

mission from the first program I heard, bringing indispensable poems to us all.

One poem a day, beautifully chosen, spoken, and framed. Please join me in

supporting this program's future with your own gift today. Visit slowdownshow.org

forward slash donate I'm Major Jackson, and this is the slowdown.

Several weeks after moving to Nashville, our dog Buzz died. We've since

populated our home with favorite pictures of him. Our relationship with that

sweet golden retriever provided us with more love, unbounded allegiance, and

companionship that any family should be allowed. And in turn, he had given us a

routine by which to channel our devoted care. Even as the world around us

faltered in its promises, we had Buzz, who leapt at us when we returned home from

work, who barked viciously and turned into our protector when the doorbell rang,

who gave the most endearing kisses and looks of affection at the end of the day.

When we lost dear Buzz, for the first time in my life, I cried at the loss of an

animal. The depth of emotional injury was palpable and disorienting. I know I am

not alone. I watched a neighbor whom for many years walked his dog at 7 a.m.

each morning. Out of grief, he repeated that same walk for about a week with empty

leash in hand. My family has a shelf of movies to test whether

someone new to our orbit has a heart. At the top of this short list is the film

Hachi, a dog's tale, based on the true story of a white Akita dog named

Hachiko. If said person is not bawling their eyes out by the end of this movie,

they just might not have a pulse. The movie is in its own category of

...