Saturday, March 8, 2014
(Continued from page 1)
“I wonder if this empty, loneliness of her loss will ever go away?” I thought, missing my old dog and astonished at the raw pain that lingered there, just beneath the surface, right next to the feeling of falling in love with the new, sweet, slightly needy (always a trap) pup in my lap. It occurred to me that my continuing grief, besides being utterly genuine, was a kind of loyalty for me, a way to hold onto the bond with the dog whose physical presence had now departed.
I have concluded that the mourning might ebb a little, but it will not abate completely. It will become a sort of pentimento, memories overlaid by experiences with the new, wonderful dog who has learned how to tear up all the weekly circulars that come in the mail, has discovered that toilet paper and Brawny towels double as banners to be strung through the house, has found her sharp baby teeth are very effective needles, or paring knives – whatever is needed.
As for me, I get to see the world through her eyes, a kind of cross-species empathy that makes every day good news for a change.
I wouldn’t trade that feeling for any other.
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