Days of searching the internet, trying to assuage the grief I felt.  Days at work spent in a blur, pretending to get things done, but secretly Googling “pet grief” and “dogs hit by car” and other combinations of words that, no matter their arrangement, couldn’t penetrate the density of my emotions; couldn’t seem to shed light on what had happened.  Couldn’t offer a response to the triteness of “Why him?”

When people came into my office, I clicked away from any one of a dozen Rainbow Bridge web sites, as guilty as if I were cruising porn.  Most of the sites were maudlin, saccharine places where people who I might previously have categorized as half-crazed to begin with revealed just how far over the edge the death of their ferret or their cat or their dog had pushed them.

Nevertheless, I posted to each one, tearing up about Hector’s death each time I laid the words down.

And I realized that I was one of them now…had been one of them all along.

We all wanted the same things, this group I found myself suddenly part of.

We wanted the pet we’d loved to be remembered, not just by ourselves, but by others.

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)