So... Birgit and I are emerging from the first several weeks of life without Buddy -- for me, after 13 years with him. The first week was punctuated with fits of sobbing each time we passed by the places he liked to curl up. We had a difficult time even venturing downstairs where he spent most of his time (a problem, since the kitchen and front door are there). I slept with his collar clutched in my hand. I dreamed of rescuing him from various perils, only to wake up and realize that there was no rescuing to be done. Eight days after his death, our wonderful vet Barb came by the house to drop off his ashes. I made it until she left, and then came another burst of emotion.
His collar is now sitting on the cedar box that holds his ashes, situated next to my favorite photo of Buddy laughing. Boy, could that dog laugh!
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