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Tuesday, February 11, 2014

Writing Wihout Crying, Almost

That was a refreshing swim.
 Last Friday, February 7th, 2014, our beloved, beautiful, funny, wonderful spotty dog Hoopa died. She died in crisis. A crisis I was responsible for preventing, and I failed her.  Yet, this morning, I am less depressed. It must be the sun. The sun is out today. Not like yesterday, an awful, gray, cold, gloomy day during which I was very sad. How fickle is my physiology.

I was sleepin'.
 Have I cried so many tears that some of the stress has left my tissues? Does the repetition of daily activity dull or mask the pain? I wish I knew more about the mechanism of this. I just feel guilty about feeling a little better.

My big ol' swamp feet come in handy for lots of stuff.

Sunday night/early Monday morning Hoopa visited me in a dream. She was her usual exuberant self, and this time she needed to be restrained while the pizza guy made his delivery. She was wearing a pretty blue collar, quite unlike her real boring black one. She wiggled her happiness at the visitor, and tried to get close to see where his wonderful smells were hiding. It wasn't but a snippet of the dream that I remembered, or maybe it wasn't much of a dream. But I felt her and saw her, and loved her and was with her again, if only for a few seconds. I love you Hoopie.

Ah. There are the tears. Not all dried up yet, I guess.

Gettin' ready to shake after an unexpected dip in the pond.

Later that same morning, before I got out of bed, I reached over to the spot by the side of the bed where she always came to greet me. I reached out my hand and petted her head, as if she were still there. She sort of was, and sort of wasn't, there. Her spirit was certainly there. It was as if I could almost see her, but not quite.

I want my dog back. Even though it is my fault she is dead, and I don't deserve to have her back. I want my Miss MouseWhiskers back. Miss SpottyHead. Hoopa Chalupa. Hoopie Toots.

Westcliffe grass is the best.

Next Monday I have a session scheduled with the animal communicator who helped me during Sallie's last months. Many people poo-poo this, but she told me things no one could have known. Things that happened when only Sallie and I were present, that I never told anyone. There is no explanation for that. If it brings me some peace, there is no harm in it. If you don't buy this, keep it to yourself. I don't need to hear your opinion right now. Thanks.