What is so strange is the quiet.
I imagine widows must feel this way.
It’s just so quiet. No sound of dog nails running across the floor.
No dog door sliding up and down.
No sound of a dog tongue lapping up water.
It rained very hard today. Rain is a natural muffler, something I usually welcome.
But not today.
I would like to have heard trucks, coyotes, car stereos, anything.
But just rain and silent floors. Silence.
Maybe the silence will bring something great. Maybe focusing NOT on a dying dog for nine months will bring great enjoyment.
But for now—it’s just quiet. Quiet.