Truth time: Gilly truly helped get us through this pandemic year. Without a shadow of a doubt, he filled a void we knew we had, but didn’t wish to admit. When Calvin passed away, I swore I was done with dogs, swore that after losing Hobbes, then Calvin, I couldn’t do it again, I just couldn’t put myself through it again. Time heals, we know this, but we forget just how much it stitches up the holes in us and makes us forget the ache of loss. Gilly came into our lives in the Summer, and instantly super glued us back together, instantly gave us something positive to focus on, something outside our own selves, our own anxieties, our own mask wearing, disease fearing, COVID fatiguing bullshit to throw energy into. Gilly, on the far right here in this photo with his sister Murtle, and brother Sliggy who belong to my mom, and my sister McGraw respectively, is this strangely sweet little cuddle monster who wants nothing more than to be touching you at all times. He doesn’t bark, he doesn’t chew things up, he just IS, in the best of ways. As I write this, he is curled around my feet once more, his heat warming my toes, and I can feel his breath steady and calm. What a thing, dogs, what a thing indeed.
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