Well...here it is then.
Mollie is back at home.
Granted, it's as a black velvet bag full of ashes in a lovely wooden box.
But, she's home.
And damn it all this sucks just about as much as last Thursday did.
After my epic crying jag last Thursday I had managed to NOT cry for a few days.
Granted I found myself looking behind my desk chair several times a day to find that she wasn't there anymore. And, I called Jake "Mollie" several times a day (good thing he can't hear). And I still looked for her in the living room when I went upstairs at night. And, I can't bring myself to move her dog bed from our bedroom.
I was powering through it.
For the most part.
Until this morning when the vet left a message on my phone that "Mollie is back and ready to come home."
I'm really happy I let that call go to voicemail. [Also I would hate to be the person who had to make those calls].
And then tonight when Kevin walked in with her it all came back. All I had to do was look at her paw print and I lost it.
We put her ashes on a table in the living room right near the spot where she always slept when we were out. That way I can give her a little pat as I walk by each day.
I suppose eventually that'll make me feel better.