So, last September I lost my sun and moon, my right hand, my heart, in my dog Millie. It was hard but I knew it would be so. I did not anticipate it being as hard as it has been though, and talking to a friend in the supermarket recently she suggested it might be because the actual event was so badly handled by the vet, it was even more traumatic than it needed to be.
Been thinking on that, and she may be right. Who knows? But it struck a chord, for sure.
The other thing I have been thinking, and which really helps, is ever so simple. See, she was my bestie, we were joined at the hip and did everything together, all day, every day. I was very rarely without her right next to me. People actually often don't speak to me because they don't recognise me without her. Well, that's what they say…
Oh, yeah. That thing that helps. She was my best friend, but the thing I realised recently is that I was hers, too. How cool is that? My dog loved me, really loved me, maybe even more than I loved her. How cool is that.
Here she is.
PS: I will be blogging a lot more soon. Comment if you don't give a fuck.