And she's gone. I dropped Sister off this morning at the crazy yorkie rescue folks' house (they had thirteen little dogs, so many dogs you couldn't see the floor. That, my friends, is madness) and I couldn't stand it. It reminded me of the time I had to take Shawn for his first day of daycare. He was only about a year old and I just couldn't stand it--knowing how scared he must be with all these strange folks. The daycare people just told me to go on and get, he'd be all right, but I couldn't. So I stayed with him all that day and pretty long the next day (skipped school, I did). I hate the sink or swimmers--I think it's bullshit. Shawn was also dead scared of water as a babe. When he was about 3 or 4 I took him to his first and last swimming lesson and the teacher was throwing screaming terrified kids in off the diving board--I saw that and I said HELL NO and me and Shawn played on the stairs of the pool and watched and I promised him I'd never let that happen to him and then we went home. He learned to swim just fine. He is, in fact, the best swimmer in our family--he's positively amphibious.

So yeah. I hated leaving Sister there in that strange land with all those strange dogs. I bet she's scared and lonesome for us. But the woman, Melinda, seems kind and loving and utterly devoted to her dogs. Her husband, Spencer, does too. As I was leaving this itty bitty fella was following me and Spencer came and picked him up and said "every day is a Bucky day!" and then he told me how that little fella came to them all scared and cowering like he'd been used to getting hit and Spencer worked to build his confidence for about three or four months--took him everywhere and talked to him constantly telling him the world is a good place and now? Every day is a Bucky day! He's a happy dog. Those folks were crazy, but good crazy. On the drive up to their house, which is way back in the woods, they posted all these fierce dog warning signs with pictures of big snarling beasts on them and BEWARE OF DOG stuff. Sister was the biggest most fierce dog of the group. Funny.

Jeff's folks are leaving this morning. It's been good having them here--I do like them. On Sunday, after breakfast, his mom and I transplanted most of the tomatoes--that woman moves fast. I spent all day Saturday doing what we got done in about an hour and a half on Sunday. Super fast momma.

And also! I'm going to help Jeff's dad with stories he's been collecting from the Deaf World for years and years--I'm going to help him try to shape them up for a book. I can't tell you how excited I am by the prospect.

Last night I showed his mom how to work the DVD player we got them for Christmas--how to turn the closed captioning on and I was using an Alias DVD that was in the player and as soon as it came on she couldn't stop watching--she wants to watch them all now. I'm going to send her the Netflix info so that she can. She's a fun woman--she cracks me up. She told us a story over supper last night about how she knew the alarm at their house was going off because the dogs came rushing up howling and the way she told the story had us all so tickled. She'd put her head up and howl like those dogs. Hilarious.

I read the eulogy which she gave for Martha's funeral yesterday and it was really moving. Jeff said there wasn't a dry eye in the house afterward. It was great--it included both the good and the bad stuff about Martha. It was definitely not all sappy and one-dimensional. Really wonderful. They're neat folks.

Jeff and I have been sleeping out in the chicken coop so that his folks could have the bedroom. We want to live there now. It seems so much bigger inside than it does from the outside and the rain on that tin roof has been a most wonderful soporific. Back to the big house tonight. Granted it'll be nice to have a bathroom mere feet from where I lay my head down.

I'm sad. I miss that dog. I hope her life is great and happy and I wish her great heaps of love and security. Dear god, grant her safe passage.

Addendum
I can't stand it. Can. Not. I keep thinking she's there by herself without me and I'm here without her and that I broke faith with her, that we love each other but I GAVE HER AWAY. How could I do this? It wasn't like this with Custer and Earle. Not even with Frankie. But this. I know I'm being all anthropomorphic and shit, but my heart is broken. I can't help it. I love her and she is gone and she loves me and I GAVE HER AWAY. You don't give away the ones you love. Love + Dog = unambiguous life-long commitment. It's the holy covenant between dog and person. I betrayed it and now I just want to drive right back there and say, it was all a mistake! I'm so sorry, but give her back, she belongs with me! My friend! My compadre! My faithful one! Dear god, what have I done. And also, please help me not resent the necessity of this decision. Please. I am finding a well of anger toward Jeff about this and it is not his fault. But I am broken hearted. I wish I had slept with her last night.

Gah. Dogs. I'm a wreck.

Addendum part deux
Remind me to stop looking for the right and wrong of grief. Especially if I ever happen to look over to Jeff (convenient targets are never right on). Lord. I just talked to him and told him how sad I am that she's gone and how terrible I feel about breaking faith with her and he said, well, let's go get her back. Thank the gods for Jeff. I said no. We can't afford her, Jeff's allergic, we are already overtaxed in the love and care department and she deserves better and she'll get it (already there is a potential home). I just miss her and I hope she forgets all about me very quick as she should. The end. Except Jeff is awesome.