esrosedotblog

It seems that the mourning period for Booker is more or less over.

The wreath on the door is metaphorical. We would be taking it down. It has been a week.

That does not mean that we have forgotten him by any means. There are still all kinds of cues that come up which trigger Booker moves or thoughts.

But they are not so loaded with emotion.

I can talk about him to other people. Everyone in my meeting knows about him and his loss and they do not mind asking about it. It is our way. No stone unturned.

Which is good. Have it out.

I pet other people's dogs too. I am not immune to doggy attraction. I don't get all wallowy over it.

It seems pretty clear, still, that he was the last one for us.

Not so much that I don't want to go through it again. I don't. But I could.

It is more about age. A puppy now would live until we are ninety or more. A bit of a stretch. I don't want to leave anyone behind other than my husband.

And, we need to clear the deck for awhile.

We have been nicely dogged for ten years. And we are the kind of people that don't want to leave the dog while we go gallivanting. I am the worse with that. So much so that I don't know how John is or was about it.

So we will go out for dinner tomorrow night. More date nights. We will also go on trips together. Right now, the schedules are pretty much set but the next time to Vegas or wherever it will happen. Next year both of us will go to Spain. Ole'.

Labels: Booker, mourning