Well sir, it's getting to the point where I can make it almost all the way around the block without crying my eyes out. Jamaica's been gone for more than six months now. Every step, in every direction on the sidewalk, breaks my heart.
We had a period, about a year ago, when she found a stuffed toy on nearly every trek. She discovered giraffes, cats, whales, elephants- pretty much everything that you can think of. Oh, she was always so very proud of her newest treasure.
On most days I was able to dispose of one or two shredded carcasses while she played with the new find.
This morning is our first Fall day. I walked our favorite route. I passed two stuffed critters of indeterminate species, about twenty or thirty paces apart. I left them there for someone else to find.
Thirty years after my dog died and on occasions we now have a dog being walked down our street. Looks a lot like him, which isn't easy because he was a mix of beagle and fox hound. I love it when he gets walked past. We've bumped into him once on a walk. I've seen those exact eyes before. And I remember.
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