It was another fantastic weekend with Dawg, extra special because he shared my birthday with me. When it was time to go on Sunday he packed up all of his things and we exchanged Squishy Dawg (who is now with me) for Squishy Octopie (who is now with Dawg) so that prying kid hands wouldn’t damage Octopie’s exposed brain (long story, but we’ve decided we need to get him a helmet rather than a thread and needle session) but I still have someone to squish and converse with.

We both had our hands piled high with things for Dawg to take with him, at which point I asked him, “are you planning to come back inside?” He gave me a confused look. “Ripley,” I whispered. Dawg set all of his things back down and went to say goodbye to her. She was not having that and gave him the “you are NOT leaving me!” cold shoulder. He did his best to say goodbye to her then we gathered his things and said our goodbyes at the truck.

I walked back into the house and the scent of his body spray was strong at the door. Ripley was purring and dancing and looking anxiously up at me from the entryway floor. I burst into tears, scooped her up, and said, “I’m sorry, mama, but he’s gone.” I nuzzled her and hugged her tight while she purred her anxious purr and swallowed a bunch of times, headbutting me until she got all of her anxiety out. “I promise you, soon you will see D every day. He will leave for the day but he will come back and give you hugs and kisses. I promise, little girl, I promise.”

Content that what I had just said was an acceptable future for her, she hopped down, sauntered over to the kitchen, then jumped into her window box and went back to dreaming…

…of him.