811. A good dog is better than a lousy husband any day

My niece Stephanie told me that if I write about Ray one more time she’s going to just erase my blog but this is a story that must be told.

I’ve had the flu this week. I stayed in bed for 2 days straight.

Since “Self Pity” is another of my names in addition to “Truth” I spent much of the time feeling sorry for myself and bemoaning the fact that since dave left me to endure my twilight years alone I had no one to comfort me.

I was just about to writhe around on my bed of pain when I bumped into a little fat warm body. That’s right, Raymond.

He never left my bed except to go out on the terrace to take care of business. Luckily Cheryl had gone home so I could leave the door open.

He spent the whole time snuggled up against me. I figured he might be getting bored so I  even brought some of his toys on the bed but he ignored them. He had a greater job to do.

This reminded me of 9/11.

dave and I watched the horrors of the attack pictured on our TV.  A few hours later dave put on his coat.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“To the office” He wanted to get to his friends so they could all discuss what was going on.

“Are you crazy? People all over New York are trying to get home to their families and you’re leaving?”

I could see he was annoyed but he took off his coat and later we gathered friends from the building to come up and so we could all find comfort together.

Raymond would never have dreamt of leaving me.


7 thoughts on “811. A good dog is better than a lousy husband any day

  1. Yup, when Carl, my late husband, passed I was grief stricken, but I coped. When my Sheltie, Roscoe died I couldn’t function. I had lost my best friend and Roscoe was my best friend. I fully understand where you are coming from.

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