I know someday will by my last day at BigHugeCorp.
Maybe I'll get to choose it; maybe I won't. Maybe I'll work there until I die. Maybe I'll die prematurely.
Usually, I have delusions of grandeur about may last day, where I'll do something big and important and elevated that means something and changes that soulless entity to a bastion of employee kindness.
And, sometimes, like this week, I have a really, really bad series of days where I lose faith that there are thinking individuals worthy of trust in the world, and I think, "Maybe I'll just wear one of these shirts on what will become my last day of work" (Not safe for work; or those easily offended):
Damn, I miss that dog ...