My beautiful, beloved Santa died on MLK day.  He would have been 29 this year in April.  It had been raining nonstop, and that Monday was the first day in weeks the sun came out.  He loved to lay full out in the soft grass and soak up the rays, and that is where I found him-laying in his favorite spot.  I thought maybe we could get him on his feet, and we tried, and he tried, for three hours to get back up.  In all the years we have been together, this was the first time he ever let me down.…