I keep thinking — dreaming, imagining, in my silly head — that somebody will knock on my door and say “Look, I found him! He’s here!” and pull him out of a bag as if he were a bunny being pulled out of a magician’s hat. And he would wag his tail a little, he would move back in, I would have someone to buy sausages and cookies for, and have someone to walk with and talk to, and things would be made good again, and some kind of meaning would return. It’s a damn bad idea, the worst in the world, to get attached to a living being; one should be careful to avoid it, always.
A recycled christmas greeting from three years ago will have to do:
Merry Dogmas to you all. Give the dogs in your lives an extra treat from me.