And I miss that dog.
Isn’t that the punchline to that joke/country-song about the man’s woman running off with the man’s dog?
Anyway, Otis is gone. Hunter came and took him. I mooned around the house some yesterday afternoon, then did some writing for this creative writing class I’m taking, which allowed me to direct my mooniness to a different topic. I went out for sushi with my roommate and we lingered over dinner, and when I got back, I listened to Victoria Williams in my room while straightening up, and Buddy Holly Danger Cat slinked around my heels. He purred and meowed demands at me, because he knows I'm all his, now.
And it was okay; it was finally over. I felt free, and it felt right, just at that moment. So I think it’ll be okay.