The post about my dead dog, sorry
Few things in this world are simply and wholly good
A few mornings ago, I awoke to my boyfriend already up but still laying in the bed. It seemed as though he had been like this for a little while. When it was clear my eyes were done fluttering and I was ready to join planet earth for the day, he embraced me and told me he had a dream about my dog, Pinot, the night prior.
Pinot passed a couple months ago and since has visited me a handful of times in dreams but this was the first time he’d recalled seeing her in his. “She visited you.” I said, feeling warm all over. I asked him to tell me more. He wore a smile though there was a twinge of pain in his voice, rare for an effervescent being like him. As dreams are, it sounded out of context and fragmented but he and Pinot were sharing a conversation in which they were able to speak directly to one another, a language transcending human understanding. “What was she saying?” I wanted to know right away, fearing recollection of his subconscious experience was floating away with each passing millisecond; fearing she was once again, slipping away from me.
“When Mommy leaves, I sleep.” she told him, nonchalantly.
I rescued her from a shelter in 2018 and in the time we were together, I struggled with anticipatory grief. I’d watch…
