Dingo Dog

Dingo mutt as a younger dog.

I’m not in the mood to write much today.  

My Carolina Dingo mutt always loved to lay by the bathroom door.  I’ve had to open it 2 feet away and step over him for the past 12 (or more) years out of habit.

I petted him this morning as I stepped over him and told him, “You’re a good dog,” then I went on my way to work.  When I arrived home, I stepped over him again — but something seemed off. 

On my way out of the bathroom, I bent down to touch him.  His body was cold.  

To say my heart is broken is an understatement.  A little piece of me feels as if it’s died today.  

My better half buried him while I cried.  I still can’t stop crying.

I know that if any of us could chose how to die, it would be in our sleep, as it had for Dingo.  It will be a while before that can give me any peace.