Giving Up Barney

I'm having a terrible time giving up our dog, Barney. And I thought writing about it might help, but I don't know.

Mark got a home for him this morning, very quickly, and at first I was elated because it sound like he has a great home and will be happy there, and all the problems we were having with him will be gone.

But I have spent most of the afternoon crying about what has happened. We got the little stinker when he was a puppy and i went through all that agonizing time of trying to teach him to poop and pee outside, and then trying to fit him into our routine so that he would be our pet, and during the process I fell in love with him.

And now he is gone, and I am very sad.

I know that he had to go. We couldn't handle him so that he would not bite Bill and that was too dangerous and too devastating for Bill to handle. And I was nervous as a cat, trying to intervene and keep Barney away from Bill. So I know intellectually that all that has happened was for our good and ultimately, I hope, for Barney's good. I know that, but my emotions don't seem to jibe with my intellect, and so this sadness grips me.

I will get over the loss, I guess, and life will go on. But I have a lump in my throat still, and I don't know when it will go away permanently.

I realize that Barney is just a dog, and that he will be fine with other people who will fall in love with him as I did.

But right now, there is an ache in my heart, and a loneliness for something that was and now is no more.

I have no philosophical explanation that will help, no intellectualism that will lessen the sadness, no insight that will make things better, only a dull sense of despair and unexplainable ennui.

And I am sad.

Life is what it is, and sometimes it is . . . . . . . . . . . . .