6 Weeks and A Day

When it came time to get a new cat when the previous cats had died, Big A never seemed to make it past 6 weeks before he was ready to visit the local humane society for his next little feline buddy.  When Hooch died, I jokingly said that I would wait 6 weeks and a day before getting another dog just to say I lasted longer.

Today is the 6 weeks and a day mark and I'm not much closer to getting another dog as I was 6 weeks ago.  I've looked at some on the humane society website every so often but all it seems to do is make me miss my amazing dog that much more.  I couldn't even make it through mowing the backyard without suddenly realizing that there isn't any dog poop to pick up and crying as a result of it.  It's just not right to be out there without my 4 legged buddy just laying in the grass as I mow.  Big A even feels that when he is out there mowing.  During these past 6 weeks and a day, I've found that I rarely go out into the backyard at all with the exception of to take the trash can to the curb on trash night and to bring it back the next day.  I use to always go out with Hooch and just hang out there as he did his business or just enjoyed the fresh air.  Now, the backdoor basically stays closed and locked for about 5 days out of the week straight.  Funny how you notice little things like that.  Big A hadn't noticed until I mentioned how infrequently I go outside since Hooch died until I mentioned it.  It's just not the same.

During the last handful of years, I always talked about Hooch's death even though he was still full of life.  Things like picking out a special song that would symbolize him and I (currently a tie between 'You Have A Friend In Me' by Randy Newman and 'The Rose' by Bette Midler).  I always use to say it was to prepare me for when the times comes.  Big A played along a few months ago when he posted this on my Facebook page:

 

I've always had a thing for those hokey cards that were written from the dog's point of view to their owner after their death.  This one really gets me though both originally when he was still alive and healthy and especially now.  This even looks like a younger Hooch before his face went white and without the white spot on his forehead that he probably had since he was a puppy.

Much like with my parents death, I hate moving forward without him here.  It doesn't seem right to eat toast or a sandwich and not have him to share my crust with or a hard boiled egg and now I have to eat both of the yolks instead of sharing them with him.  People expressed their condolences and continue on with their lives and I try not to be too maudlin on Facebook as I work my way back to that too.  It just really sucks.

I still have the bed he slept in in our bedroom which he has had for almost the full 11.5 years that I had him but I have been able to dismantle and wash and put away (for maybe the next dog?) the newer ones that don't quite have the same sentimental attachment.  I still have his food bowl with the dog biscuit he didn't eat that fateful last night when I tossed it in there.  

I know there are other family-less dogs that need me per the quote in the photo and to him or her I say, hold on.  I'm coming.  Just not quite yet.   I need longer than 6 weeks and a day.