Laying by my side, Carrie was motionless when I awoke that morning Eleven years we shared; my very first canine companion despite being almost 50. We shared building or rebuilding three homes and gardens. She could climb a fallen tree, slide down driveway snowbanks, and dance for a treat when around nieces and nephews. She always seemed to know not to go too far away from my sight. Her little black nose and almost hidden eyes behind her black fur made me laugh often.A very special toy poodle.
Then Cokie came to be with me. A unique multi-colored coat, cafe au lait, which continued to lighten from when I first saw her at 4 weeks. An opposite personality. She wasn't a clinger. She wanted to explore, everywhere but her own yard. A definite challenge. Food wasn't an effective bribe tool for training; she couldn't sit still long enough to pay attention in obedience class. Then, at 9 months, she tried to cross a nearby busy street at dusk and was struck down. This one hit me very hard. I felt so responsible. In 9 months, I lost them both. It has been 9 weeks and I am now starting to deal with it more openly. How does one get beyond feeling so responsible for a death?
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