Exactly a year ago this weekend, our darling dog Shadow, aged 12, fell sick while at the boarding kennel. The Chap and I were in London. She was rushed to the emergency vet clinic for surgery--every attempt was made to stabilise her until we could be contacted. She had to be euthanised on Sunday, April 30th.
Recalling this sad anniversary, I've been very weepy today. I grieve her loss, as I always shall. I remember her in life--her affectionate nature, her ability to purr, the way her rear legs danced when I tickled her bum, her intent observation of the chipmunks, her perpetually wagging tail, her play-fights with Lola. So similar to the play-fights of Ruth and Jewel.
Watching these young dogs romp . . .
. . . and vie for possession of the biggest, bestest chew bone
. . . and as I constantly cuddle them, I feel so fortunate to have their companionship. Each reminds me of Shadow in specific ways, though they of course possess their own unique personalities.
Tomorrow I'll place daffodils on Shadow's grave.
Before I start to cry again, I offer up a photo from the recent past:
That's the parking area snowpile at the big mall in Portsmouth on March 5th.
Here's what it looked like two days ago:
On Friday I headed east, towards the Seacoast, to meet a friend for brunch. Went shopping afterwards. I didn't find the skirt I needed but bought a fantastic, highly attractive big purse at a major department store that cost--wait for it!--$4.99.
Yesterday I tidied up an entire flower garden (roses and perennials) plus half of another garden plot. And I finally installed my trellises and planted my snow peas, which have been well-watered by the persistent rain.