I went up to the house this afternoon to meet my wife for lunch and unloading. When she got out of the car she was in tears: her friend, Mary, had just had her dachshund Cornelius (Corny) put to sleep.

Corny had been diagnosed with prostate cancer back in August and was taking part in a cancer therapy study at Purdue's veterinary school -- a half a cup of beads of some sort, impregnated with some sort of medicine was put into his stomach. Last week, he was found to be cancer-free.

This morning, at Purdue, some fluid was drained from his stomach and cancer cells were found. He looked at Mary, she said, with a look that said "It's okay and for the best." Mary gave permission.

He was a great little dachshund who knew that people existing to open doors, provide food, and throw the ball. I probably threw the ball fifteen thousand time.

Mary's driving back from Purdue to the Chicago area. Slowly and carefully.