Friday, February 2:
Terrible day! My children walk into town with Anna, take Fitzo with them, return home weeping, and tell me that Fitzo has been run over by the locomotive. I run to the spot and bury our poor little dog.
It is a holiday, people come and go, the sun shines, and I feel as if I were to blame for his death. Today, when the bell rang and I did not hear his barking, I felt so desolate; I cannot help thinking that recently Kos was calling Fitzo, and Fitzo heard the knocking and wanted to fly to me for protection.
I feel as if I had lost Kos twice, and the terrible sight of that poor, mangled body will never leave me.