i return to my old place in the kitchen where i used to sit next to david and blog. the computer acts normal, or the old normal, which is a far cry better than the new normal. and david's chair is empty and beethoven's seventh is in the air where his breathing was.
this is my last sleep with mister, at least for a while, and who knows. i woke and kissed his head beside my bed and thought how he should have been my dog but he is my boy and i his and i'm grateful he and barb have made us and my life as it is, possible.