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A long, tough goodbye

I don’t normally become attached to “things.”

Things are disposable. They’re replaceable. They don’t hold your memories; your heart, your head and your blog preserve those special moments.

For a long time then, “things” were easy to toss out.

Until recently.
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On the job

I love this breed.

So damn much.

When Shep came into my life in 2004, I had never heard of a Maremma sheepdog. When my friend who connected us told me the breed name over the phone, I heard “Miramichi dog.” For those not in the know, the Miramichi is a region of northeast New Brunswick and not anywhere you really want to visit.

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It’s a girl

Yes, it was a quick decision.

Maybe too quick.

I’m still not sure.

Here’s what I am sure of:

  • My heart remains shattered
  • I cry every day … several times
  • I still look for his goofy grin and listen for the click-click-click of his toenails across the laminate floor
  • I tell My American I’m fine but I’m not fine
  • I’m sure I will be fine but it won’t be tomorrow or the next day

Shep was my best friend. When he died almost two weeks ago, a part of me died, too.

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