7:58 a.m. - 2007-06-25
You know, since I lost my baby girl, I haven't been able to look at other dogs, no less pet them. Until I got to Six's parent's house yesterday for a day at the pool, following a night of purposeful overdrinking...
They have a young golden retriever that seemed to know something was up, and kept putting his face in my face, and laying his head on my lap, and I petted him expecting to get choked up, but I found it rather soothing instead. Then I looked in his eyes, and I knew that he knew and I swear that my had sent him a message or something.
The night before, I threw a sort of personal Irish wake and drank enough vodka to make myself numb, but not sick. And I had this daydream vision of my dad, younger and healthier than when he died, playing fetch with her, and enjoying the heck out of her. I knew he'd like her. And the funny thing is that she never played fetch in life. She hated it. She'd run after the ball, then sit next to it.
I know it was alcoholic wishful thinking, but I'm hanging on to that picture in my mind.