One week later

It’s been a week since we lost Abby. It seems much longer, though. Time has slowed down since we first learned that she was going to be leaving us. After losing Meg the days got longer. Now they’ve slowed to a crawl. The house is quiet, the days unpunctuated by trips outside, feedings, barky interruptions.

We’re working through all of this, staying busy, and we’ve been able to talk and laugh about our lives together. Fortunately we’re not riddled with guilt, wondering if we did the right thing, and we had some time to prepare as her health slipped away.

But the days aren’t yet normal. It’s hard to tell when they begin, because the old routine of getting up early, getting everyone emptied and then fed, then emptied again — the way every day had started for many, many years — is now gone.

Two nights ago she showed up in a dream. She was once again The Happiest Dog Ever, just wanting to say “hey.” When I woke up I felt as if something had worked itself out, and somehow knew that we were all going to be okay.