The dog has grown impatient with my grief. Familiar now with my waves of sorrow, she quietly retreats. This is interesting to me, since I am also (nearly) silent, I wonder what makes her realize that I’m hurting. Her insistance on hiding or softly slipping into another room is also curious. We form a tangled partnership of discordance — between what is tangible and what is elusive, what is acceptable or not, what is expected, what is extracted, added, remembered, forgotten, lost and acquired.
spanishwoods 
Sylvia, I hope that you are okay, hugs from me. 🙏🏻
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Yes I am, it’s a process I think. Thank you John.
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You are welcome my friend. ❤️
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Sending you extra love.
Dogs (and cats) have a sixth sense about things. It’s like they know when to give extra and when to give space.
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That’s very true Dale.
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💞
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Dogs always know. They’re picking up on cues that we humans have dropped, I think. I hope you’re okay, Sylvia. 💛
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