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Woke up this morning with a half remembered dream about board games. I thought "The Bobby counter's next to me, the Hallie counter's up Kevin's end (no, not his anus, you know what I mean), where's the Peggy counter?" And then I was awake and knew, and my heart suck like a lead weight as I felt his absence. It wasn't until twenty minutes later - as I was walking the dogs down a bush track towards Appletree Rd near Holmesville - that I started crying.
I know I've let Peggy's spirit go, but now I'm sensitive to his absence. The bush track was one I loved to walk him done, as we'd swing back down Appletree Rd towards Barnsley and meet all sorts of people and dogs out for their morning walk. In any case, part of me expects to see him there, involved in the activities I do and when I look at spots he generally was (on the foam cushion outside, the sofa under the trees et cetera) my heart feels the vacuum of him not being there.
I know this is natural. But I also think at least that when I walk the dogs in future, I should avoid the exact same routes that Peggy and I used to go. I did that this morning - when we got to where Appletree Rd meets Johnson Rd, instead of turning left down Johnson Rd and skirting around Taylor Memorial reserve as Peggy and I always did, we continued down Appletree instead. And instead of cutting into Charlton St (Peggy loved leaving his mark there) we went down the alleyway instead. If I continue to do that, then I won't be walking the dogs down Peggy's routes, but down our own way. Another example I've noticed too is that since Peggy's gone, I no longer stay out much on the sofa after I've fed the pets. Rather, I feed them, and then come back inside.
Not that I wish to forget Peggy. I never will. When Snoopy, my old family dog died, my father was so upset that he destroyed the Snoopy's dog kennel that he'd made for him (and which Snoopy's fellow pet and friend Little Kit, had died in). Don't want to do the equivalent of that. Certain things have already started to change, however. I removed Peggy's dry food from the shed and gave them to Kevin to mix with Hallie's food. The pillows and cushions I put down on the lounge floor for him have been put away. The medications (oddly enough he used the last pain killer on the tab the day he died) I was giving him are gone.
As time goes on, evidence of his presence will erode, though I shall still remember and expect him. Just like the video below:
