I present for you a piece of one side of an overheard phone conversation, overheard in a doctor's waiting room, ca. 2009.
The night my horse died, I cried myself to sleep. A guy from Comporium came out with a backhoe so we could bury him.
Riding him, it was relaxing. My brother wrote a song when his dog died - Taylor. I told him, "Write a song," and next day, he did it. "Stranger Living In My House." In my Elks magazine I saw a story, "Where Shall I Bury My Dog?"
Sorry, folks: that's all I heard.