TG posted this on my Facebook wall today: Until one has loved an animal, a part of one's soul remains unawakened --Anatole France
I was having a good day until I read it.
My tri training partner & closest friend said yesterday 'Kuro was the love of your life.' Yes. I suppose he was. It feels as if he was - is - part of me on a cellular level. His persona, his energy, his spirit, his essence is still in me. An acquaintance said 'he's your heart dog.'
That he is.
Grief is like guerrilla warfare, complete with unexpected raids, ambushes and elements of surprise. It attacks with extraordinary mobility, striking this vulnerable target. The difference: guerrilla fighters can withdraw with astonishing speed. My grief about losing Kuro lasts, a slowly receding tide.
The four year old in me wants to kick and scream and throw a tantrum until I get what I want. Damnable that I can't have it (either the tantrum or, especially, my beloved boy)
I miss you, K.
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