I was telling a friend, who messaged me saying she was sorry she missed my birthday, that celebrating my birthday lost some of its luster now that it’s inextricably linked with the death of my beloved Willow The Best Dog There Was.
While I was typing, Summer came up behind me on the love seat and draped both paws over my shoulders, licking my ears. She has taken to doing this to get my attention. Red says it’s her way of hugging, and sure enough, when I detach her from my shoulders and wrap my arms around her, she folds right in.
So it appears there’s a determined campaign in progress to help me get over the loss of my forever pal. Summer is a rambunctious little devil who does her best to goad Dejah, Red or I into a good romp, and if we’re not up to wrestling, she will run back and forth across the 20 feet of our living room at speeds more suited to an open meadow. I’m surprised she doesn’t injure herself when she abruptly shifts direction at that pace, but I guess at 8 months she still has some of that puppy indestructibility.
I will always have a hole in my heart that could only have been filled by Willow, as anyone who’s ever had a Best Dog There Is in their lives will understand. But Summer is digging her own little hole and camping out for the duration, and that’s just fine by me.
Now, if we could convince her to stop digging in the yard and the carpet … !