I awoke at 4 a.m. this morning to a muffled sound. I thought it was our elderly Great Dane, fallen from his futon but it was the sound of a cat entangled in some blinds. I shooed the cat away and shut the door. I still had an hour plus before my alarm went off. I managed an hour more of sleep, woke up again and launched into our normal morning routine: Lift dog off bed, walk him outside to relieve himself, return him inside to eat his specially prepared food. I also fed our other dog and the cats. We had one more round outside and then I laid down again, telling myself it was only for a little while and then I would get up and run. I slept for an hour and ten minutes more, awaking from a terrible dream where my foster son was standing in the kitchen, covered in coffee ground and muck, waving a sharp knife at me. We has dressed like someone I had seen on The People of Walmart (ie ass hanging out of some hideous pair of nylon shorts). It was definitely time to get up.
I will be processing this loss for quite some time. It even visits me in my dreams.
I wake up at 4 every day and feed the dogs before I go to work.
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