A couple of days ago I walked over to tell Ozma's dog friends what had happened. It felt very weird walking up there. I'd walked that five minute walk literally hundreds of times, but the only time I'd ever walked it alone was after returning a stray dog to his home.
People speak of phantom limbs. I felt a phantom leash that day, tugging at my hand in a gentle ghostly fashion.
When I got to two houses away, Jackson came running, barking like crazy. He wanted his treats, so I reached into my pockets and got him some bones. After he'd eaten five of them, and slobberstained my sleeve looking for more, he settled in for some loving. I petted him like crazy, and told him what had happened. I thought about stealing him.
There was no magical moment in which Jacks acted like he understood. I just petted him and longed for my puppy.
Greg
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