Well - The Human Body Is Built for Distance - NYTimes.com
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Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Friday, October 16, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Thursday, October 1, 2009
I am washing one less breakfast and supper dish these days.
And noticing other little absences:
the scrabble of claws on the floor,
the steady click-click-click of a patrol around the house in the middle of the night,
the slurp at the water bowl,
the insistent wet nose saying "Get Up! Get Up! It's Morning!" and the disgusted snort when, lazy, I didn't respond,
the cacophony of the daily rendezvous with the mail carrier,
the rafts of discarded fur that I somehow always miss when vacuuming,
the chill of the morning walk,
that special pleading in your eyes as I left the house without you to go anywhere,
the delighted enthusiasm when we ran, no matter where we ran, or walked.
And I look at the living room floor or the empty bed in the bedroom and think about the big absences:
the twice daily walks (in the 9 years you were with us we estimate, conservatively, that I took you on 6000 walks)
the way you rode herd over the cats when they started making trouble
how you managed, always, to sleep on any of my papers and books that I happen to leave on the couch
that you put 100% of your being into everything you did
your cache of toys and bones buried under your favorite bush in the backyard
your seriousness and rare playfulness
that you trusted me totally . . . no matter what I did or didn't do
how desperately hard it was to let you go
I'd like to think that I was worthy of the gifts you gave me, I really hope so.
Rest well girl, you had a good run . . .