At this point in time the Dak homers remind of me of a rutted up whitetail buck. Brash, loud, confident. Scraping up the ground. Rubbing the trees, claiming his territory. Fighting every other buck he crosses paths with. Then, one crisp November morning, he's cruising through the woods. nose to the ground running down that hot doe with single minded purpose. Suddenly, the bullet slams into his chest destroying his heart and writing his ending in ink.
The buck doesn't accept the reality though. The will to live and the adrenaline allows him to keep going. It can be amazing just how far that mortally wounded buck can still run before the cold, hard truth of reality gets the last word.
You guys are as amazing as that buck who flat out refuses to accept his fate as he takes his last breaths a half mile from where his life actually ended.