Alone

Kelly has never in her life been left alone. That was a mistake on our part, and now she's paying for it. Yesterday afternoon she howled and cried for about half an hour when I let her out of her crate, pacing the house, carrying an untouched peanut butter stuffed Kong in her mouth (that had been in her crate all day).

Last night while Sonepheth took her for a walk, I folded up Kira's crate and put it outside. That was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. This morning Kelly looked dumbfounded when she realized that there was only one crate against the wall in the family room, where there have always been two. But she finally went in.

I've asked a bunch of people for advice on canine grief, and have received some really great ideas and links. I know we need to start focusing on Kelly now, keeping her active and entertained to help take her mind off the sorrow (or more accurately, the confusion and distress). Trouble is, everything we do is so very Kira. Kelly is like a side kick without someone to stand beside. She's like a lone pea in a pod.

Who is Kelly without Kira? Who is furry without brown dog? I don't even know. But I do know that I have to start thinking about Kelly as an individual in order for her to see herself as one.

I guess it's all about creating a new routine. Over the next week, we'll put the rest of Kira's things away. And we'll try to take Kelly for a walk somewhere new. And we might eventually try agility training with her. It's something I've always wanted to do, and I think she could be really good at it.

Yes, I'm finally reaching a point where I can view Kira's death as something that has happened, instead of something that feels like it's constantly happening, and therefore that I'm constantly reliving.

Still, it's going to be a long, long time before I'll be able to feel whole again.

God, how we miss her.