The Most Happiest 2nd Blog Post Ever.

Our dog died. (How's that for a fun opening?) He got old and he died. He was big and goony and always happy, and he loved swimming and snow and could never figure out how to play catch (he'd run after the ball, pick it up, turn around- see us, get so excited that we were there, drop the ball and run back to us as fast as he could.) He would "rescue" anything in the water- people, buoys, jetskiers- and in his youth, he would often attempt unspeakable acts of a sexual nature on my brother Rob. He was my 150 pound perpetually-shedding home security system and I don't think I'll ever feel quite as safe without him around. And this sucks, and I didn't ever think I would be so upset over a dog, but I am. And it sucks.

The girls are full of optimism and slightly disturbing questions (where did his blood go? do your bones go to heaven?) They have been telling me all about Heaven and the fun things that dogs get to do there. Ella had a confused moment yesterday in Target, where she got upset that I wouldn't let her buy Berkley a bone to "send to Heaven" for Christmas. I explained to her that we can't send things there, which she didn't understand. Eventually I just had to tell her that there is just no mail delivery up there. Which, when it comes down to it, is exactly what the problem is. Heaven is a real place, with an inefficient postal system.

And now I need some chocolate, because I think that's like stage 3 of the five stages of grief.(stage 2: overcompensation- where one goes to Petco and buys the other still-alive dog stupid sweaters and fancy treats.)