The vet clinic called today, informing me that her ashes have arrived. When they first said it was the vet calling, I was like, the vet? Why is the vet calling? Oh yeah, the ashes. I want them, she belongs here. I wasn't able to pick them up tonight, had a previous engagement scheduled. Oddly, or not, I feel slightly bad about leaving her there another night. She belongs here.
I got home tonight and was standing at the back door fishing for my keys, and something just inside the back door caught my eyes--I really thought it was her. Of course, it was just a pair of black boots, though for a flash I sincerely thought it was Bernie. I was all ready to put on my happy and excited face when I popped through the door!
I miss her, acutely tonight. It seems weird to me to not come home at all until nine or ten o'clock, no dog to tend to after work. I'll get used to it, and will enjoy it, but it has really kind of rocked my world. There's this flow of guilt, that you put the dog down--that's not the source of the guilt--and you just move on with your life, doing virtually the same things you did before with the dog. Only now there is no dog. Whether I'm articulating why or not, it creates guilt.
It's been a long few weeks. I've waded through it well, but bite by bite it has taken it's toll. The arrival of spring will be nice, nicer than the arrival of any other.
No comments:
Post a Comment