I feel like a country and western song. My love is gone. My friend and her babies are returning to the UK. And my dog died.
The first bit is complicated beyond reason.
Yesterday I said goodbye to my godbabies (one official, one claimed). Who knows when I’ll see them again?
And today my dad rang to say Kayla has been put down. Kayla. Of the soft nose and extreme gentleness. Of the sweet nature and graceful gait. She liked to slide her elegant snout onto your lap, so soft you’d barely notice she was there until you found yourself idly stroking her. Cunning dog. She’d let strangers into the house, but not out. See? Cunning! Whose one vice was likin’ a good old ear scratch. Preferably with your finger right in her ear hole. Something only my dad had the stomach to do. She was fifteen. Old for a dog. Ancient for a Doberman. But she was some damn dog.
I’m over loss, ok? Universe? Can we stop now?