I attended the first evening of a four week seminar on grief from pet loss. Six women were there, with Reverend Leslie of the Center for Spiritual Living. I saw that I am in good company here, that the process is much more spiritual than I had thought. Still have a problem looking at photos of Boo, but I did take my sketchbook drawing I made earlier this year. Our workbook has pages where I can make more sketches, too. We had an altar in the center of our circle, where we put pictures and toys. Other dogs did not make the mess of their toys like my Boo did. Perhaps I will bring his bowls, the blue and white ones with little paw prints on them, next week. And his baby picture. Lordy, he was obscenely cute as a baby. Well, he was cute all his life, little teddy bear dog that he was. A couple of the other women in the group were still grieving actively, sobbing. That is not happening to me, and I think it is because of the long, long, long recovery I have practicing letting go. Whatever, I will profit from writing out our story, the Boo and I, and acknowledging the lessons he taught me, like loving with a totally open heart, walking sloooowwwwly because he was always waddling in front of me, confident he knew where I was going, and gratitude for his warm, furry presence, even as I swept drifts of black hair from every corner of the little yellow house. There will never be another Boo.
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