exposure therapy

The short sentence stabs: my dog died.

When will I wake up without requiring the reminder, remembering I don’t need to check his water bowl or take him for walkies? How many times will the sharp syllables slice before I am scabbed and scarred enough not to be caught crying at my desk? When will I come home, immune to the silence, impervious to the missing jangle of tags and the absence of toenails on tiles? How often must I wield these three words before their edges dull?

My dog died.

The sentence is still a dagger.

17 thoughts on “exposure therapy

  1. Hugs to you!
    I know so well what you are going through. I lost my dog in April and I am still to come to terms with it. I still hear him whining for attention and rush out of the kitchen to look at his favourite spot in the living room, wishing he was there. I still miss him when I can’t hug him as I sleep at night. I still miss running my hand over his soft, satiny coat and kiss him till he lost patience! I will always always miss him, as will you! We can never get over our beloved dogs, you know?
    Take care and know that he is very much there, by your side!
    Hugs!

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  2. Hugs to you, Cynthia. I know this is a tough time for you and your family. I have two dogs myself, and I love them to bits like family. I think the tightening you did here works well. The last line really drives it home.

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  3. I hadn’t had a chance to read the non-fiction grid this week due to travel…Man oh man this cuts to the quick. My condolences for your loss. ❤

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