Hi all. Our little dog "the Boobers" also (but less frequently) called Layla, passed away on Monday. My little dog, really, for while Beckett loved to feed and walk her and Jonesie just all around adored her, she was a crotchety old girl. A vestige from my single days, my art school days. She was not the ball playing, bike chasing family dog, but she was my dear, lovely little friend and companion. I miss her so damn much.
I spent a lot of time this last week with the Boobers on my lap, and then a few days wishing she was on my lap. The happy news in all of this is the speed, painlessness, relative comfort and privacy of her passing. We all feel so grateful for that and for the cozy time we had with her in the preceding days. I'm also grateful for the resilience of my boys. Since she was my dog, the bulk of the grief seems to be mine, but her absence is deeply felt and inescapable for all of us.
I'm doing my best to be adventure mom, keep spirits high and such, but there is definitely a little dog shaped hole in my chest as I write tonight.
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