One of the things I most dreaded about Red’s death was going to tell the Mansion residents. He worked with them for several years, he knew everyone.

I didn’t want them to hear this from anyone but me, so I went over shortly after Red was euthanized.

I knew it would be a heart breaker, and it was.

The residents had gathered to celebrate everyone’s birthdays, including mine. They wrote a poem for me and for Red, not knowing of his death.

After they sang happy birthday to me, I asked if I could make an announcement.

I try not to ever patronize the Mansion residents, I treat them like the dignified and respected adults that they are. I didn’t sugar coat, and I am especially careful not to ever patronize them or talk down to them, as some people do to the elderly.

I don’t speak to them in a loud voice or a sweet voice. Just my voice.

I said I was sorry to say that Red had died. I explained the cause of his death. I thanked them for loving him so much and welcoming him and me into their lives. I said Red was the reason I first came to the Mansion, and he loved every single one of them.

There was a stunned silence, some gasps, some shaking of heads.

You don’t really need to explain life and death to the Mansion residents, they live with it every minute of their lives. More than anything else, they love things that show up and recognize their existence and humanity.

Red had a genius for that.

I tried not to choke up, but I did, a little. I knew this would hurt.

I hope none of them saw how hard a speech that was for me to make. One of the Mansion aides, watching from the other end of the room, started to cry and left.

I saw Tia, one of Red’s pals, put her hands to her mouth and walk away.

I saw that some of the residents took it in stride – death is no stranger there – several looked shocked and sickened some cried.  Wayne and Peggie and Helen and Ellen and Sylvie seemed to take it especially hard.

Red meant the world to these people, it was Connie who said that Red was an angel to them, “he always showed up, he always was there for us.” That is true, he always was.

Wayne wanted to know every detail of Red’s death, and what I said to him at the end, and whether or not he was in pain.

Sylvie surprised me, she loved Red and spoke with him, but I never saw her touch him or pat him. Sylvie is loving but rarely intimate. I gave her some notecards and stamps for the third time that week. She did come up to me and say “I am so sorry about Red, Jon. He loved you very much.”

Sylvie knows about love, she lost two loves to death and illness in her young life.

This morning, there was a letter waiting for me in my post office box from Sylvie. It was an especially moving letter, I saw tears running down Maria’s cheeks when I showed it to her.

I wanted to share it with you. It says so much about the ancient love and connection between people and dogs.

You can write Sylvia, she loves getting letters and I am making sure she gets the addresses right when I can: Sylvia, The Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.