For those of you missed it on Twitter earlier tonight, my dog Scarlette died tonight.
This new house... she got under the house, then out through a gap. The onto the road.
The road here.... people go too fast. And it's very, very dark.
A nice neighbour, two doors up, knocked on my door and asked me if I owned a small black dog. I knew what he was going to say... he wouldn't tell me she was dead. He asked if my husband was here.
Scarlie's buried in the backyard of our new house here in TinyTrainTown. I guess the best I can do is think she's with Tony now... he's got his dog back.
The Chop and his dog, on the beach in Paradise
I'm not sure how I'll tell my kids. Actually, that's a lie- I know exactly how I'll do it. I've done it before. That's the worst bit of it. At two and almost four, my children are going to understand much more about death than any kid deserves to.
My son is not even four. He's lost two of his best mates, two constants in his life. What the hell is the universe doing? What the fuck? Give us a break. We don't deserve anymore shit.
That dog was part of our family. Even more so since Tony died. She was such a good girl- good with the kids, a comfort to me, loyal and protective and without a particle of road sense.
Just.... fuck. That is all. I don't know what else to say. It's my daughters birthday party tomorrow. At least that will take our mind off things for a bit. Wish me luck.
And I know, she's just a bloody dog... but.... I don't think I have to explain how damn sad this is. It just feels like another little chunk of our family is gone.