Red was euthanized two weeks ago today. His death is receding into the very busy background of my life.

The efforts to get Kevin Reiss’s son Milan buried was emotional and draining and exhausting, and ultimately deeply satisfying. The funeral is Monday. Since I never met Milan, it doesn’t seem appropriate for me to go.

As I suspected, and as I have learned about me, it isn’t necessary for me to grieve for too long for Red.

I am not in denial, I am firmly into life.

I am excited at the prospect of a new puppy.

I’ve found an excellent breeder, had a long and good talk with her,  sent off a deposit. I can’t control any part of the rest of it, so I’ll skip grieving and worrying insofar as I can.

I am learning not to think too much about the things I can’t control, it’s a path to nowhere.

If it is meant to be, it will be.  I believe we will have a new puppy here in November.

I still look around for Red all the time and still expect him to be with me wherever I go. I still call out when I head out to the car, “c’ mon Red, let’s get to work.”

But he is never there, and will not be there again. This afternoon, I went out to the car and didn’t call for him.

I find my consciousness is being filled with optimism and eagerness to do my work: to get sweaters to the Mansion residents, to each my writing workshop at Bishop Maginn, to take my photos and tend to my farm, to be with Maria and to help the school and staff and teachers continue their renaissance and rebirth.

To get ready for another dog.

My life is rich and full of meaning, my head already spinning with the best ways to train a Lab puppy, and the challenges I will face. I love training dogs and am good at it. I picture bringing Zinnia, (“Zin”), if that turns out to be her name, home with Maria, teaching her to sit, stay and come, playing and cuddling with her.

I called Lenore, my last Lab, the Love Dog. I know how to love a dog, she taught me to keep love alive.

I’m eager to teach Zin that our home is not a playground or dog wresting parlor, it’s quiet,  respectful workplace.

I’m also eager to have fun with her.

She’ll get lots of chances to walk with us, and running around our fenced in the yard until she yearns for her crate. I am happy to throw balls outside.

I picture us walking into the Mansion and spotting the needy residents, one by one, and lighting them up with smiles, one after another, almost as if they were dominoes clacking against each other.

I did say hi to Red this morning, I walked over his grave.

Until a few days ago, I felt his spirit and his presence. But he is gone now, I can feel it, I can sense it, we were so in tune with one another, I think has spirit has gone on to continue his work with someone else, somewhere else.

Like that wonderful little girl said when her beloved chicken died, Mommy, don’t cry for me. I loved Henrietta the chicken so much that I can’t wait to love another one.