My last sight of Timmy
Ther [Thermometer] Monday, Mar. 11, 1918 [March 11, 1918] Wea [Weather]
Timmy came into my room and
bed when the Nurse was at supper
this evening. He cuddled close against
my thigh and licked my hand gently
with the tip of his soft little tongue,
after his usual custom on such
occasions. I covered him well with
a red blanket, for the room was cool.
Thus we lay together, as we have so
often done before, until the nurse
came back and took him away in
her arms. That was the last I
saw, or shall ever see, of him on earth -
but a few nights later I dreamt
that Charon was ferrying me across
the Styx & that as we approached
the further shore "Timmy" was there
to greet me with wagging tail &
smiling, loving eyes & when I landed
he whirled around & around many
times just as he always would where
eager to pass out or to [?] through
a door or gate. All this seemed very
real. I was rather ill at the time.

Cambridge. Tim's untimely death
Ther [Thermometer] Tuesday, Mar. 12, 1918 [March 12, 1918] Wea [Weather]
"Timmy" my Irish Terrier, was run over
by a motor truck about 10 A.M. and 
breathed his last some 20 minutes later.
Of this they told me nothing until
late in the day I being there in bed
& rather seriously ill. Percy's account
of what happened, as given me by
him several weeks later, is as follows.
Timmy "was let out in the Garden
about 9.45 A.M. He found a hole
in the wire fence, on Sparks St. &
escaping through it made his way
down that street to Craigie St.
where he was run over not far beyond
the watering trough. A small boy
who noticed him lying there brought
word to Percy. The ground was covered
rather deeply with fresh fallen snow &
he was lying in this just outside the
roadway. He did not seem to know
either Percy or Gilbert [Robert A. Gilbert] when brought in 
to the Museum. Thus perished the
very dearest dog I have ever had.
The news of it unmanned me
completely in my weakened condition