I woke up this morning thinking I might be ok. When I asked Billie if she wanted breakfast she bounded out of bed and headed toward the door. I let her outside and she went looking for Doris. When I let her inside, she went from room to room, looking for Doris.
My heart aches for us all. I can't do much without bursting into tears. Grabbing the food bowls this morning and filling only one sent me over the edge.
Who's going to bounce on her front paws barking excitedly at Edith to make her leave the kitchen while they have breakfast? Who's going to gradually push the bathroom door open with a pensive gaze followed with an air of pride at the success of getting it open enough for her to come in? Who's going to patiently lift each paw for me to dry, first front, then back, at the door when it's muddy outside? Who's going to lick the grill while I'm cooking outside? Who's going to stand in the center of the arch out back and bark at whatever unusual noise she hears in the Greenway?
I've got to get out of here. I thought maybe Billie would like to go for a walk, but there hangs Doris's bright red harness, the one she loved to wear because it meant a walk or a ride.