There is something so delicious about having the house to yourself. Especially when you make it warm and cozy with a crackling fire, eat only a salad for dinner, and read magazines to your hearts content. Nothing but the occasional sigh or nuzzle from the dog. I love spending time with Jamie, and we can easily sit in silence with one another. But the silence of being alone is something completely different. It is as if all your guards, all your receptors, all your senses can just be a little more quiet.
Olive and I took a walk today as the sun set. The air got chillier and chillier as the light dimmed. Olive, oblivious to the cold, chewing on sticks like bubble gum. Me, being conscious of where I stepped in the packed down, slightly icy snow and keeping one eye out for deer and moose, ideally before my four-legged friend spotted them. That happened tonight. The buck saw me and I saw him, and we were both spared the obnoxious barking and disobedience of my little dog.
Been thinking a lot of about dogs the last day, ever since I got the text from Robin that Elly had passed in the night. Yesterday, watching Olive's excitement that never wans when the skis come out, holding on to those moments when her pure joy feeds into my blood infectiously and makes me smile right along with her. Doggies give so much. So much. And even in the moments when I scream at Olive in frustration, I have already forgiven her just because of who she is. That is one of the beauties of owning a dog- to practice easy forgiveness.
Peace to Elly dog. May you run fast, sniff often, and find many balls along your trails.
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