About Time's Healing Power

I'm not feeling it just yet, and it's been seven months since Mongy's passing.  For reasons I won't share here, we remain dog-less.

On Monday, 2/9/09, Our Lady of the Wayside came for our Hairmobile, the '92 Ford Escort GT Hatchback that had been dedicated to doggy transport.  (It needed repairs that were too expensive to make.)  Our Hairmobile hauled Mongy... Hemmie, Beemer and Shelly too... to parks along Lake Erie and the Chagrin River.  What joyous... and, occasionally, dangerous... adventures we had!  Because we didn't care how trashed its interior got, that car smelled like wet dog, even in January... at -15 degrees.

As I cleared our belongings from it, I discovered gobs of Mongo's hair under the front seats.  In tears, I scooped-up several handsful of my precious girl's hair and opened my hand for it to be wind-strewn across our yard.  It was the same some months ago when my clean-oholic Mom erased Mongy's "nose art" from my front windows.  Mom thought she was doing a good thing.  I didn't want to hurt Mom's feelings, nor for her to know she'd hurt mine.  I let her continue her Mongo-obliteration and went into our basement to cry.

I miss her beloved moochy-face and happy-tail welcomes.  Life isn't life without dogs.