I miss the dogs

There was no discussion.  When we separated, she took the dogs.

Actually, there was no discussion about most details of the separation.  I know that it was a mutual decision, but I cannot for the life of me remember when or where the decision was made.

Our house had been sold.  The buyers had asked for a pretty long completion period, to suit buyers lower down the chain. Given the state of the house market, it was a request we could not really turn down.  This gave us time.

Time to tell our son that Mummy and Daddy would live in different houses when we moved out of our home.  Time for lists to start appearing on the kitchen counter; Laura:  Fridge, Freezer, Washing machine, TV’s x 3, Stereo, Wii.  (All was good though, she wrote; Living Room T.V, Dyson, Wedding Photo Album and Iron on my list!)

I was also told that she would be taking the dogs.  The inference was simple; she would be able to care for the dogs during the day whereas I could not because of work.

Now the only time I get to see their furry faces and happy eyes is when I pick up my son.  A few fleeting seconds after years of long walks and endless games of ball.

I miss the dogs.

The noses and ears that can detect the opening of any food container from 25 metres.  More sensitive than any MOD radar. The eyes that tracked every morsel from plate to mouth.  If Maltesers ever get classified as Class A Drugs, my boys will be the best detector dogs in the world!  My boys?  That is the problem though; they are no longer my boys….

I no longer find a dog on the end of my bed, with another under the duvet (head on pillow), when I crawl into bed after a long shift.

I no longer have a wet tongue across my nose as an alarm call.  My duvet covered feet are not treated as quarry to be attacked, as I try to sleep after a night shift.

I still have their photographs dotted around the house and a gallery of photographs on the refrigerator door.  What I don’t have anymore, are the two loyal friends who would always listen to my ramblings.  The best friends, who shared my problems without question or judgment.  My daily excuse to blow the cobwebs from my mind with a bracing walk.

I have just realised that you, loyal reader, have taken on part of their role.  Not the fetch component, although I’m sure some would happily like to play ball in the park.  You listen.  You let me share my problems.

Thanks for that, dear reader.  Good dog, now let’s find your lead shall we?