Shawn says I shouldn't bother to try to do six posts this August. Since I can't remember a time when I felt less like writing, the thought is tempting. Still, I get precious few feelings of accomplishment in this life, and looking over at my sidebar, seeing a tidy collection of parenthetical sixes line up after the name of each month throughout the year, this is one of the few victories I ever achieve in the life I have attained for myself, which is devoid of report cards or paychecks.
Therefore, I will limp on.
I have a few ideas; it's whether I have the energy to try to express them. It's strange to be so apathetic about writing.
I miss having a dog. I miss Schubert.
It will be okay.
I'm thankful that God gave us the blessing of having sweet Schubert for 11 years.
Why is it so ridiculously hard to lose a dog? I think it's because your dog is always there, always happy and excited to see you, always next to you, touching you physically, sleeping by your leg, resting a chin on your foot, walking up or down the stairs with you. Sometimes I'd forget something and change direction halfway up or down the stairs, and I always felt so bad for Schubert when this happened, because the stairs are uncarpeted, and he had to balance carefully, attending to whether he slipped or not. It was awkward for him to turn around on a slippery oak step in the middle of the staircase. Sometimes I finished going to the top or the bottom, just so he could be on level ground before I went back to do what I had forgotten.
You get so used to your dog's faithful company, you don't even notice it.
Until it is gone.
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