Tuesday, October 11, 2011
As I’ve been crying on your virtual shoulder all week, thought I’d share a couple of things nice. Yours is not the only dry-cleaning I’ve ruined. An amazing number of people in the neighborhoods around here knew Phoebe.
Since Saturday, when I walked Albert, people in passing would ask about Phoebe. And before you knew it they were hugging me and I was drooling on their jacket.
But this evening I ran into someone I’ve known for 10 years. He has a min pin, a friend of Phoebe’s. This min pin is the same age as Phoebe; was brown when was P was brown. They grayed together.
This guy asked after Phoebe, and I told him what happened. And I didn’t dissolve into a wet and sticky mess.
When we hugged, he asked me, “How should I prepare myself? My dog is old, any advice?”
And I thought about it for the rest of the walk. Here's my advice: Don’t prepare. Don’t steel yourself ahead of time as it won’t make a lick of difference. Just give your dog or cat or whatever friend, one more kindness than is usual, every day. This will bring you comfort.
I wrote my Patch piece about Phoebe. As if I could write about anything else. And I like what I wrote; it’s not the slobbering piece you’ve come to expect from me. Really. It’s measured and true. Respectful, loving; what she deserves. At least, I think it is. I wouldn't entirely trust my own judgment quite yet.