It’s been almost two weeks since Leroy died. I’ve begun to feel better. Not about it, of course, but just better. It’s easier for me than Staci, but I didn’t know him as long as she did. Still, it’s certainly not as complete a change as some might have expected.

I haven’t had the heart to post anything since then. It just felt wrong. One day Leroy has died and the next I’m talking about video games. I need to do this a bit more gradually.

The other day I had a sort of a vision. It was like a dream, but I was wide awake and not particularly distracted so it was a bit different than most of my daydreams. In it, I was telling Leroy how we donated his medicine to the hospital so a King Charles¹. He was pleased.

The times I miss Leroy the most, the times it hits me the strongest, are when I spill something on the floor. With very few exceptions anything that ended up on the floor would be swept up by the powerful tongue of Leroy. Even things he didn’t really want. If he didn’t gulp it down he’d chew on it earnestly until naught but a sodden pulp remained.

Now, when I spill I have to clean it up myself.

¹ King Charles Cavalier Spaniel. They’re notoriously prone to heart defects. One of many downsides to dog breeding. Nice dogs, though.

Some time after two o’clock this morning Leroy returned to his ICU bed from taking a pee outdoors, laid down, and stopped breathing. The last night he spent at home was his birthday on Monday. I hadn’t even taken the time to write anything about his trip to the emergency room and the hospital and the resultant anxiety. Now… well…

The night doctor called us right away. Called my wife, rather. She awoke, picked up the phone, and let out a wail of agony like I’d never heard before. It was beautiful and terrifying. My reaction was more visceral, literally. I took the news straight to the gut. I thought I’d vomit. Stumbling to the bathroom I could feel that greasy eye socket sweat that seems to accompany a really good sick.

We drove through the night to view him. I had a difficult time looking at him with his eyes slack and tongue agog. I needed to keep a bit of distance. I just didn’t like seeing him that way.

His ashes will arrive in a few days. I only glanced at the paperwork from the crematorium, but got the impression that they will arrive with a selection of materials that aim for heartfelt, but land somewhere near crass and aggravating.