He's Gone,

but not gone far.


We took him to his new home last week.


He was quite excited to have space to explore, two creeks to wade in, and two boys to play with.

I am very happy that he's going to be taken care of.

And he's loved.






But I miss him.


I have this pain deep in my gut every time I put down scraps of food and call May. At first, she would pause before eating. She was so used to letting her son go first, ever the caring mother, for the last 10 months. Now I think she's used to the idea, and doesn't hesitate.

But I feel sorrow.

In the evening, when the kids are sleeping, and I'm lounging on the couch, I miss his scruffy head in my lap. I miss playing with his floppy ears, and making his 'fro even more 'fro-ier'.

When I'm feeling frisky, and wanting to fool around on the floor, I miss his heavy, solid body I can barely wrap my arms around. May doesn't wrestle like him.

I miss his paw on my knee, his body leaning into my legs, begging for a scratch.


And most of all I miss the gentle licks he would give my hand, as I walked around my house, doing various chores. He'd time it so I'd lower my arm and he'd lick, just to let me know he's there.





I'll be fine.



My kids are fine with it. May has increased in the attention department and she is flourishing. I think the kids appreciate not being knocked over while they're running as well, although he never did it on purpose.

Roman, you're a Hilgandorff now.

I love you.