I ran Jake into town late in the morning and when I came back, I cried and cried. For the 1st time in 11 years, Bully wasn't there to bounce up and down and be excited because I came home.
I really miss him. Wherever I was, he was.
Spike's a comfort even though he's not Bully. He senses when we're sad and comes and wants to be cuddled. Or tries to chew on us. Here is his playpen - he made it himself. He drags all of his toys behind my chair and muddles them. He doesn't really tear them up, just mouths them.
And when I get really sad, I sit and stitch. This is a santa I'm working on for a Quiltmania Christmas issue. Chistmas is homey and makes me smile and think of things for my grandkids. Bully had a good, good life and none of us can live forever. He was my friend and I will miss him.