Recovery

I probably shouldn't admit this, but losing Morris was extremely painful.

I've had many kind words and condolences.... I have to agree ... No matter how many years a dog lives, it is so very hard ... it never seems like it has been enough time.

My mother in law questioned me on Sunday. I had said something about Morris being ill and not doing well.

She wondered aloud ~ and she was NOT being mean at all ~ "Why would someone have a pet and like them so much to have them go and die. I mean they have such short lives!"

I jumped up and stood ready to be mean. However, her words were not inappropriate. Why on earth do we give our hearts over to pets with such intensity?
I said, "Honey, you are preaching to the wrong choir! Morris is...he is...
I ..."

I looked to my husband who shrugged. 
His mother had never had a pet. Always working farm dogs, outdoor dogs. She wasn't a pet person.
In fact, when Morris was a wee pup...he peed on her shoe.

At 87 years old, she was not going to 'get' the dog/pet/buddy thing. 

I smiled. After all, Morris was doing just fine. 

However. Morris was a typical Jack Russell Terrier. My veterinarian explained one time that JRT's will GO GO GO and suddenly stop. Worry at the stop. They normally don't let you know they have a problem...until...well. There you go.

Morris was fine. Tuesday he ran and played with Dixie in the morning. Tuesday afternoon his life stopped. 

I don't regret our time together. He made it so much richer. He was a pain. He was demanding. He was...simply put, Morris.

"...But you have Dixie!" 

Yes, I have Dixie. The big goof of a hound. Ever loving ... always willing to please.

Dixie. Right now, Dixie is just enough until I figure out what happens next.
Morris left a hole in my heart. But so did so many others. I haven't been able to move his crate. His toys are lined up on a box. I can pick the toys up and hold them close for a moment with my eyes closed.

I couldn't get rid of his red blanket. We always shared it. 

I had to put one of his larger toys on the couch so I could rest my hand on it while I read a book. As I would rest my hand on Morris's body.

Last night I heard him on the stairs.

This morning I swear he woke me up as usual at 5 AM. I found myself putting on my sweatshirt to let him out the porch door.

This morning Dixie helped me with chores. We went to the creek and watched the run off together. She filled an ache and I hugged her hard. I pulled her to me in the snow/icy/slush and buried my face into her shoulders.
She wiggled and then for a few moments, she stood utterly still.

Dixie is helping my.....our...
hearts recover.

And that is all one can ask.