My Fire Hydrant

I can have a conversation about her without crying–that’s a step forward. My ability to concentrate is better than it was, and yesterday I found myself laughing over something. But my head still feels like I’m recovering from a bad head cold, and I continue to have an off-again-on-again low-grade headache.  I feel empty, but my head feels like it’s so full it might explode. And the greyness of January is doing nothing to pick up my spirits.

I’ve made a half-hearted attempt to gather some of Bailey’s stuff together to give to the shelter. It was easy to gather up the things she never used–the little tee-shirt that says “Leashes? We don’t need no stinkin’ leashes!” She hated that shirt! And the squeaky ball that she lost interest in several years ago (when I worked in the phone center on Saturdays, Bailey and I used to play soccer in the hallway outside of my boss’s office–she was a very aggressive player!). Her left-over meds. Her leftover food. The blue harness and leash that she hardly ever wore (she preferred her black set).

But there are still some things I can’t move–like her bed which still has the indentation of where she lay those last couple days.

I miss her cuddles, and the sunshine of her cheery little doggie smile.