After I pushed Publish just a while ago, I looked at my email and saw an offer from Shutterfly – quite a handsome one – and I looked. I should not have done so because I came face-to-face with calendars and this year I did not make the one I had intended, the one that featured Shane. Why am I so distressed by that dog’s death? Obviously, it has linked itself to deep psychological issues in my brain/mind that are gut-wrenching. I could have said visceral, but I might as well be blunt.

It almost doubles me over; my breath is caught between in and out; my throat tightens painfully.

Of course, it is not wise to write such revealing things on the Internet, but then I am not young and looking for college admission or for a job and don’t have to worry about an potential employer seeking out any weaknesses. )Actually, I certainly have given anyone a good enough look by now, what with Poos and Bears and UDO’s.)

They say anything on the Internet is there forever; I hope so, because no matter what the world is made of, somewhere, somehow, I want Shane to know how much I loved him and how much I cherished whatever links to others he had.