stinkydog

So, if you haven't gathered from my last post, my dog died yesterday. Clarification: not just a dog, it was Georgia... which probably doesn't mean a lot to people who don't know me, but those who do know me realize that a little part of my world crumbled.

Georgia and I were together not quite nine years. I adopted her when she was 5. At the time, I was looking for a companion, a jogging partner, a watch dog and well, something much more along the lines of a Beagle. I came home with a fuzzy, shy little creature who hated exercise and who could actually fart louder than she could bark. In every single way I can think of, she was exactly what I needed. She almost instantaneously just became part of who I am and what I do. So, believe me when I say that despite the fact that I knew her death was coming sooner, rather than later, that knowledge has done absolutely nothing to make the hole in my heart feel any smaller.

I'm doing better today. I'm at least past the sobbing in a fetal position on my couch phase... I think. I still reserve the right to randomly burst into tears and/or post as many sappy Billy Joel lyrics as I feel the situation calls for.