
It'll be two years in three days already. This time two years ago, I'd have never guessed how different my life would be for the better. I am feeling lonely right now, but it'll pass.
Cleaning up the fire mess stunk. Literally. We got sick from the burnt leftovers of the couch. The rebuild was a job and a half, with lots of frustration and drama, but it was over in six months. The fire wasn't my marriage's death blow; instead, it was a warning to shed a part of my life that I'd been unhappy with for years. Sort of a "life blow." Everything turned out for the better. Much, much better.
But today, I found myself crying over the pets again. Seeing them after the fire was so bad, it's #2 in my Top Ten awful things I've seen in my life.
I guess I just have to swim to the other side of this, like I'm swimming a pool the long way.
I'd like to tell you about my dog, Yuki. I loved this dog madly from the first time I saw her. Small, white, short coat, long legs, stand-up ears. She never ceased to to delight me all the time she was alive. She would chase bubbles, water from a hose, and rain until she was exhausted. During one rainstorm that was so bad we couldn't see passt the middle of our path to the street (and it's a short path!), Yuki ran out into it. Yuki would get incredibly excited when she heard thunder, and she always heard the rain fall before anyone else.
And here is a monster storm, the Holy Grail of downpour, the ne plus ultra of storms. There was no keeping her from such an epic deluge. Yuki tore out the door, exit stage right, when we opened it to look at the rain we couldn't see through, and disappeared, her yipping gone in the roar.
Well, we didn't know what to do. It's not like we could go after her, there was nothing to see and nothing to find. However, at second thirty of the thirty seconds we were vaporing over what to do, Yuki missiled back into the house, enter stage left, water trailing her like a comet's tail .
Yuki had run the block, a quater-mile, in thirty seconds.
Best. Dog. Ever.