My First W

I took my first W last night.

Scratch that.

I took my first W alone last night. It was only the length of two houses, and I cried a little, but I expected that. You see, it was the first W I'd taken since my puppy died.

I stopped updating this blog when Oz got diagnosed with cancer. I tried a bunch of times to write about what was going on, but it seemed wrong, somehow. It seemed selfish and off to write about what was going on instead of doing it. Now, though…now that my puppy is gone, I feel like I've been through a lot, and I want to share some of it.

So. I took my first W last night. I walked very slowly, like Oz did at the end, and I only went as far as she could go the night before she died, which was the width of two yards. After that she had to stop and rest. She lay down in the middle of the road, right on the yellow lines, resting on her side and panting. When she was finally ready to walk again, we came back. The wide of one yard. Then she had to rest again.

I got her one more yard's length after another 3-5 minute lay down, and then managed to get her back to our property through jazzing her up—talking about seeing Kathy, about getting a drink, and so on. That last nighttime walk was about two minutes of healthy Oz walking time. It took us at least 20 minutes.

Last night, I just crept along and cried. I didn't lay down in the street, though some of her places, I plan to. I miss her so bad. I miss her, and I miss her dog friends and all of our places. That was my first W.
Greg