The day after

Thanks to all of you for the kind words and good wishes.

Memories. King used to follow me all over the house. He would lie in the hallway so he could watch me make the bed or fold laundry, or lie in the dining room and watch me work in the kitchen. He’d lie flat with his head on the floor, and just Stare. Sometimes, I swear he snored. I think he was able to doze with his eyes open.

He used to dance around his toys and bark at them. A 115-pound dog doing a hop dance is quite a sight.

After he buried something in muddy ground, he would walk around with a big wodge of mud on the end of his nose.

Sometimes in the morning, I would wake up to find him standing in the bedroom doorway with his food bowl in his mouth. If that didn’t get me out of bed, he’d grab one of my slipper clogs and run off, in hopes that I would get out of bed and give chase and maybe even, hey, feed him.

Gaby seems okay, as far as I can tell. She spent a lot of time outside patrolling the yard, barking at the meter reader. She often refuses to eat if she isn’t comfortable or if things are off, but today she ate a small breakfast and a little bigger lunch. Saturday morning, I’m taking her to her usual boarding kennel for a temperament test. If she passes–and I will be really surprised if she doesn’t–I will be able to enroll her in daycare play dates with other dogs. I would like to do this a couple of times a week. I think it will be good for her. I know she must wonder where King is, and she’s a very social little girl in any case. She needs that stimulation, I think, so she doesn’t get bored or depressed.