You’re so lucky that I internalized my pain a year ago when Tess died. Sure, I cried for three months straight, but I refused to bring it here to the blog. Well, I’m not doing that this time; my inner workings are hanging on the outside of my body like a fragile second skin. This is something I need to work through, thus the post mortem ad nauseam. I do apologize.

When Tess left us, Zoe was my security blanket. I couldn’t bear to be without her and very neurotically even took her into Publix. That’s the great thing about a small dog; nobody looks askance at one in the grocery store. Of course, as I healed I weaned myself off her constant presence. Doesn’t matter; she’d become a kind of point of reference for me; a touchstone by which I defined my post-Tess sanity. My sister in law told me that I would bond with her now that Tess was gone. And I did. She became my security blanket, which is why I could simply put my hand on her at night and relax completely.

Thus it seems wholly natural yet sick to me that I am now bonding with Bree. I love it and resent it. I reached out last night and rested my right hand on one of her arms, conveniently located directly in front of my face… and I relaxed a little. It felt like a betrayal, yet comforting.

I thought I heard Zoe’s ears flapping today.