Then it became something more serious.
It’s been months and I still can’t tell this story without my chest tightening.
At the end of last summer, we lost Huffle under a murky set of circumstances where a former friend was taking care of him and completely utterly failed at the job. Best I can tell, our incredibly detailed and explicit instructions which included the note “never feed him breakfast before his walk” was probably not followed. We think he bloated because he was reportedly in discomfort, drooling and hiding, but instead of informing us immediately (also an explicit instruction we repeated several times: let us know if ANYTHING seems weird or wrong), or taking him to the vet, they simply left him at him and went to work.
I can’t fathom what on earth they were thinking but our beloved boy was just left at home alone and he didn’t make it to the afternoon.
We were, needless to say, devastated. Wrecked. Marooned on an island with our grief.
I didn’t know how we’d get past it, and I don’t know if we are, but as they say, time does soften the sharp edges of loss. We still miss him ever so much, and think of him often, but we’ve surrounded ourselves with pictures of him and have kept busy with Thumper’s allergies and other health problems. Keeping busy helps, but we’re always going to have a HufflePup shaped hole in our hearts.
Now that I’ve managed to share the sadness, I’ll keep writing here in his memory, in some way.