Inevitably Keely

The Animal Hospital where we took Bailey called a couple weeks ago to let us know that her ashes were ready to pick up. I told them I'd be there the next day and I realized later that was a lie. My heart felt heavy when I heard their words. I didn't feel ready to bring her back home because I knew I wasn't really bringing her home. She's gone.  So I waited. And each day I drove by that place where I left a piece of my heart, I felt heavier and heavier. So I started taking a different route to and from Finnegan's school. If I took a different road, I could try to forget that place and what we did there. I could try to push away that sadness. But the thing is, I couldn't. I can't. I feel that sadness every day. When I see another Boston Terrier. When the girls call for their Bailey and are confused when we tell them she is gone and can't come back, not ever. When Finnegan tells me he thinks Maxie is lonely and needs a friend again. I forced my

Zoe asked me yesterday what I've written recently for my blog. "Nothing, baby. I haven't written since I wrote about saying goodbye to Bailey." "Oh. You should write something. I think it's cool you have a blog." So I pulled up my blog and realized, I didn't write about saying goodbye. Not really. I wrote about how she joined our family and how much we loved her, but I couldn't tell the story of how we knew we had to let her go. It was a Saturday. After more than a week of her cuddling with us more and making us think maybe she was going to be with us a little bit longer after all, I looked at her and knew she wasn't herself. I held her on my bed and ran my hand over the stripe on the top of her head and around her neck the way she always liked. I kneaded her neck and told her what a sweet girl she was. Her right eye was swollen. Blind for almost four years already, her pretty chocolate eyes had been covered in white clouds, but th