This is not the first weekend that the Mr went up to work on his cabin over multiple days. Until last week, he was taking both Elsa and Murray with him when he went. Now that sweet Elsa has moved on, he just took Murray. Saoirse will need multiple day trips and training not to run off into the mountains, never to be seen again. I'm not ready to do that training, so she stays with me. I'm not sure why this trip feels so different, but it does. It seems quieter. More still. It's still the same group down here at the house--me, the cats, and the puppy. Nonetheless, it feels like a smaller family.
Before he left, the Mr had a conversation with one of our across-the-alley neighbors. Apparently they are a bit frustrated by how much Saoirse barks, particularly when the wife is working from home. In my defense, I don't like leaving her outside for just that reason. But she has inherited the job of being Murray's buddy, even before Elsa died, because Elsa was only interested in hiding in the garage all day, sleeping in the dark. She had been in a steep decline before she took ill. Our house is in a constant battle, between the Mr putting Saoirse in the back yard, and me pulling her back in to keep her quiet. Maybe with the neighbor's complaint, I'll be able to win that struggle.
She is still a very snuggly puppy, but she is as awkward and ungraceful as she can be. She steps on me all the time, and she punches, scratches, and head butts me without having the slightest clue that it all hurts. I'm going to need to wrap myself in bubble wrap for the first week or two after the next surgery to keep her from ripping open my sutures during an enthusiastic cuddle.
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