The day Miss Jones left

We walked for hours yesterday, in new places neither of us had ever been.  We drove back roads home from the car dealership and I didn't even pretend I wasn't crying.  Stopped off for a wander through Clare and its Country Park before coming home and heading straight to bed.

I woke up this morning resigned, sad and - if I am honest - slightly relieved that it was almost over, the decision, the build up, the panic that rattles up when I know I am doing what has to be done but it will shift every foundation.  But I miss her warmth, the smell of her fur, her  exuberant joy, her cantankerousness when she doesn't get her own way.  I know Miss Jones needed to be around other dogs, I know it wasn't healthy for either of us how closely emeshed we had become.  But I really do wonder what the shape life will take on without her here.  And when it will resume shape that she or another Saluki or 3 will find their way back to us, because I know that will happen, that I'll move on to more space and that the shape of our worlds will shift.

The cards today we're clear about needing to set aside blame and hurt.  The foster family who was driving her to her new home touched my arm. 'It could have happened to anyone. You're doing the right thing, for the right reasons. You're doing it for her.' I didn't take them up on the offer of tea; it felt like rubbing salt over the wound. 

I drove down to the beach and walked. Listened to the waves. Breathed in and out. Stopped and treated my inner 12 year old to lunch. Came home and allowed my tired and flue-y body to rest. Then did a bit of laundry, a bit of tidying. A little bit every day, that's all I can do.  Why is that so hard to remember?