Snippets of Grief

 You bastard, you're supposed to be here. You're meant to be the one who takes the dogs to the vet, you know that. Missy has an abscess or a boil or something, and I need to figure out how to take her. Fuck you (aka, one more reason to miss the hell out of you).

 80 days since I started these little notes to you. Most of the first little "oh man" moments are done now, I think. It'll be the big ones still, of course, but the silly things are probably done. I'm not sure why I feel the need to mention that, but there we go. We took Summer and Missy to see the Christmas lights last night. You would have been so proud of them both. Not only did they not try to eat (m)any of the people walking past, but they were both * in the back seat *! It was different, driving to see them, instead of going on the bus, but I still missed you.

 I still need you, poop-garden. I took Missy to our vet to get her groomed today - they turned us away. If you hadn't left, you would have shaved her while we wait to get in at PetBarn, but no, you checked out. Why you and not me? I don't understand, shrimp-writhel.