I seem to be very pet-heavy in my ruminations these days; perhaps it is due to our family's recent loss, but most likely it's because they are the unwitting subjects of my photographs. The poor things cannot protest as my husband is wont to do.
Outside, the snow is coming down: little flurries on the road as my husband makes his way back from Wisconsin. This weekend he went to exchange cars, our burned out clutch sucking so much of our cushion from our checking account; perhaps on Christmas Eve, I will sneak out to the garage and tie a big red bow around the pedal.
It's just been us, me and the four creatures, rumbling about the house, the dogs still running to the windows at the sounds of nearby cars, hoping Ryan might come back, this whole leaving-thing a joke. And I couldn't help but wish the same thing. It was a sad Friday for me, for the obvious reasons of Madison passing on, but also little frustrations adding up--the parking ticket variety of a long day.
But these things pass, I know. We learn to revel in the good memories of a good dog's life, think about Madison joining our first golden retriever, Maggie, up there in doggie heaven, probably taking those meandering walks with my grandfather, who has been gone a little over a year now. I think about how lucky we are to have known these good people, these good creatures. I feel selfish wanting more, especially when we know the more comes at the end of a life that is "good" and "long" and the end is hard--Madison and Maggie's cancer, my grandfather's Alzheimer's.
And then we wrap ourselves up in what we have and love it as best we can. Because we've got it now, and that's incredibly lucky indeed.