At about 7:30am, my husband's phone went off. It was his mom. I could tell something was wrong by the tone of her voice, but I thought it was something minor.
Our beautiful, funny, independent german shepherd, Bretta, had passed away during the night.
I spent my morning digging a grave for Bretta with Paul. My clothes are covered in mud and my eyes burn from crying so much. We're not done yet, either. Because the ground here is super saturated from all the rain, the hole we were digging kept filling up with muddy water. Tomorrow my husband will be going back to the farm to finish the job and bury our dog. In the meantime I'll be working on a tattoo for him of her paw print.
So if you see me at work, or run into me outside of walmart, please don't ask how I'm feeling. Or if you must, then bring some tissues. If I'm going to start bawling in public again, I would appreciate not having my nose run everywhere. Prayers are welcome, and if you have a dog or know one....go give them a hug for me. You never realize just how much they mean to you until they're gone.
Rest in peace, Bretta. You will be missed.
~Sun and Moon