I worked through Christmas, worked through New Year. Had both kids at work (in-laws were overseas). Had a quiet-ish Christmas (my beautiful sibs were together in England for Christmas and in Ireland for New Years)...with lots of beautiful food and home made dye free red velvet cakes... and honey ham...and sausage stuffed turkeys courtesy of my Mama and Papa...
We had an abundance of blessings from our Heavenly Father in the form of special moments spent together, gracious company, manna from Heaven, contentment, peace, harmony and happiness wrapped up in fine Christmas paper, adorned with bright sparkling Christmas bows and Christmas kisses....
I spent about two weeks not really sleeping well after we had the dog put down. I missed my friend so much. I still do. I missed the way his tags (rabies tag and his name tag with my cell phone number on it) would clink together in the middle of the night when he came to lie near to me. I missed the way I would look out for him in the darkness as not to step on his toes when I went to the loo (he was always claustophobically close to me)... I missed the comfort from him. I felt it like a tangible loss when the aftermath hit me in the face. And it didnt occur to me that, that strange feeling was the grief of putting a faithful pet to sleep. Once I identified my sleeplessness it has been much better.
Also the husband and I bought another pet. He is called a Mambosaurus in Mambo's honour. Although he is non canine. He is a Yemeni or Veiled Chameleon. His name is Emilio. And hes just simply beautiful. Only once I had him in my hands on the car drive home, did I notice that his two front toe nails were missing. He is imperfect. Yet I could not part with him. He has been through one full moult already, we think hes about five months old, judging from the size of his casque (helmet). I hoped his toes and toe nails would rectify themselves after his moult. But alas. He is damaged. I hate that someone transported him in a rough manner and hurt him. He will NEVER be hurt at our house.
