It’s been one of those stormy weeks last week. And I’m not talking about the weather. Week 47 of this year was, sure enough, not what you’d call a bed of roses. It started off pretty great but ended in a shocking manner, to say the least.
The week was packed with friends, good food, and tasty wine, but it ended with sorrow. My girlfriend’s family’s dear, wonderful, and beloved dog passed away yesterday. It was not the perfect Sunday.
God, we loved that Labrador so incredibly much. Almost 14 years of age. They truly are family members.
It was a pretty surrealistic feeling too because we were at a Christmas fair and were all pumped up and looking forward to the smell of pines and the taste of mulled wine (the best drink for Christmas ever made). And right in that moment, with people strolling by, carrying Christmas trees on their backs and laughing at almost knocking people over with them, they called.
It’s in those moments when you simply know what the phone call is about. It’s as if the ringtone itself is telling the message. You just know. And sure enough, it was that kind of call.
I know it might seem silly to someone who’s never felt this kind of bond between a human and a non-human animal but… It’s like losing a family member because that’s exactly what you’re doing.
So, today has been really gloomy. We bought a honey-scented candle (because Felicia always says that Sam, the Labrador, smells like honey) and lit it. It’s almost burnt down at this point. And I did the one thing that I know will comfort me at almost any time: I got out and borrowed some really good books and bought a Pinot Noir. And now I’ve put on some lovely 1940s music.
The books because I’d like to think of reading as a way to skip reality for a while.
The wine because it was a tradition of Sam’s and mine to sit outside; Me with a glass of wine and a book and him with a dog bone and a blanket.
I hope your week number 47 passed smoothly and I really hope that week number 48 will be great for all of us!
Swim cool, Internet.
Talk to you tomorrow.