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Yes, you have to sit through another entry about our dog. Deal with it. The next time you read "Blondie"(you know, the comic with Dagwood, Blondie, Mr. Dithers, etc.), take a close look at Daisy, their dog. When she's in the strip, Daisy's facial expressions and movements make a wonderful commentary on her people and their silliness. Junior was this kind of dog. He wasn't furniture; he interacted with us constantly, without really being underfoot, and sometimes his reactions alone would tell me what was going on in our house, even if I couldn't see what he was responding to. Realizing this is helping me understand why his death is so hard for me. Fourteen years of constant interaction with him have left me feeling unbalanced without him. He was my perpetual audience, and now I'm talking to a silent, empty room. I took his little body to the pet cremation people today. They were nice to me, which was a mistake, because it set me off again. I stood there in their St. Francis garden, where his ashes will go, in the rain, weeping like a child for my doggie. I came home, dried off, drank chai, and watched an old video of Junior, made during one of Kirsten's visits. This was maybe five years ago; June was ten, but he was still fat and glossy, with a spring in his step and a lively, alert expression. In the video, he's healthy, playful, smart and sassy, a lot like Daisy. He was so frail and faded this past year that I had forgotten what he was like for most of his life. Watching this, I knew we did the right thing.I think I'll be okay now. Today's song: Aniron (sp?), Enya Book of the moment: Year of the Griffin, Diana Wynne Jones: highly entertaining sequel to Dark Lord of Derkholm.
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Dog lessons