Back home where she belongs

I finally have my princess back home. It's been too long since I've been able to hold her, but today I was able to; and having her home is a good feeling. Of course, I don't like the urn she came home in, which is a random, white plastic rectangular box, with a big sticker on the side saying "Daisy" G. (I hate it when people and/or places put quotes around a dog's name. It's like they're implying that the name itself is just a formality, since a dog is a dog, and not worthy of an actual name. No one puts quotes around a person's name. A person is no more a living creature than a dog, so why the quotes.) I can't wait to move her out of that ugly box and put her into something pretty, that can sit out, so we can see her throughout the day.
I miss my girl terribly. It's been a couple weeks since we had to let her go, and I'm still feeling the awful effects of losing her. Oliver and I are incredibly lonely throughout the day. You never really know the weight of a presence is in your life, until they're gone. And that is never more true than when you have to go on with your life minus your shadow. Because that's the truth of it: that baby girl followed me everywhere. I still find myself checking for her, or looking for her, or wondering where she is when she's not in front of me or on top of me. It's a disconcerting thing for me emotionally.
Because emotionally, I'm a train wreck. It doesn't take much to make me cry my eyes out for the last couple weeks. Obviously, that Friday, and that Saturday. And when I got the card from the vet's office. And when I talk to anyone about it. And when I missed her all those other days. And today, when I picked her up from the vet. I'm a mess. I miss my baby.
I'm not used to being so sad. I'm really not used to wallowing when I get hit with a wave of it. But I know that the best way to deal with it, is to deal with it. And that means being an awful, crying doggy mommy whenever the mood strikes, I suppose. But I feel better having her home.