Missing

I was up late last night crying about Oliver. I hadn't cried about him in a while. I think about him every day, but I don't cry all that often any more. Last night I did. Last night I cried until my eyes were sore and my nose ran. I relived every one of his last moments, the way we held him, the way both Adam and I cried.

But in a way it wasn't so much about him as about the dogs. I know how it went with Oliver and it went well. Yes, he died, but he died at an extremely advanced age, surrounded by love, with nothing wrong with him except for the fact that he was really damn old.

The dogs? They scare me, and my love for them scares me. Nothing can happen to them. I won't let it.