Double Dose of Grief

It’s a sad time for me. I lost my furry best friend. My Molly, a Maremma mountain dog, lost her battle with breast cancer on Thursday.
I was HER person. She was stubborn, too damn smart for her own good, and loving. If she didn’t like someone, then I knew to be on guard. I would often see her curled up outside in her chair with one of the barn cats. One day this spring, when it was cold, she sat outside of her house and kept looking from me to the doghouse and back. She had a pitiful look. I went to investigate, and found Mamma Grumpy Cat comfortably ensconced inside. Much to Molly’s delight, and Grumpy’s dismay, I shooed kitty out. That really summed up her personality.
I buried her here at the farm. That way, she can still keep watch over me and the farm, like she enjoyed.
Over the last few days, I find myself wanting to call her name. I miss her at my side. I wish I could hear her deep bark. I would LOVE for her to misbehave and aggravate me again one more time. To listen to her grumble and snore in her sleep. For her to slap the door of her kennel to tell me it is time to get up. For her big wet footprints to dirty my floors.Ten years with my fluppy lap puppy wasn’t long enough.
I gave her a forever home. She tore hell out of three extra-large dog crates and my chain link fence, hated fireworks and thunderstorms, dug holes in my yard and under my house, barked at anything that moved and frustrated the hell out of me some days. BUT EVERY MINUTE OF IT WAS WORTH IT! She knew she was loved. I was her forever momma. If she was upset or scared, she wanted to sit on my lap because she knew she was safe and loved. This was HOME.
I find myself bouncing between the stages of grief like a game of handball.
Oh, and right now I have a job but no clients, no hours, and no income of my own. Got that news a few days before…
A double dose of grief. Just what I didn’t want.
For now, I will bounce around, work through things, give my love to the rest of the furry and feathered critters here on the farm. I can’t stop being Mom because I am sad. Molly would want me to take good care of everyone. But most of all, she wouldn’t want me to be unhappy.

Goodbye, my sweet and gentle girl. Know you were loved.
your forever fur momma,
love,
me

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