Like dog poop before the first snowfall my life without Kyle sits idle. What is there to do? No one to play chess with or to throw hand fulls of money at. And isn't that what life is really all about?

On that note, have you ever seen a dog's master pass away, only to find that the dog maintains a steady vigil at it's best friend's grave? The dog waits day in and day out for his master's return, never smart enough to realize that his master is getting drunk every single day in Scotland and is likely never coming back.

Maybe I'll just get a dog, name it "Kyle Ditched Me" and hide Snicker's bars around it's neck.