Saturday I went and talked with one of my vet’s assistants to set up a tentative date to bring Reilly in and Wade has talked to a neighbor about digging a grave for us with a piece of his heavy equipment. This all seems so surreal when Reilly is still here living and breathing. I’m second guessing myself left and right, not sure of anything I’m doing. It feels like I am walking around in a hollow dream. Tomorrow I have to go back to work and pretend that everything is normal when nothing is and won’t be for a long time. Reilly has been that once in a lifetime dog for me. There have been other dogs before him, no doubt more will follow but if you’re lucky you get that one. The one that can see inside your soul, the one that knows your soul, is your soul. If I make it to heaven, this dog will be waiting for me. He will walk without bad hips and his eyes will see again. When he sees me his ears will perk up though he’ll know I’m coming before I arrive. I’ll breath in a big long draw of his sweet yellow fur, I’ll hug his big barrel chest and I’ll fluff his soft, soft ears and whisper to him, “best birthday present ever, best dog ever.” “Let’s go for a walk Reilly,” and we will walk together again, unencumbered and free.


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