Buckets of Rain

"Buckets of rain, buckets of tears..."

In this part of Quebec, the skies opened fully last Friday and even caused serious local flooding, but we were ok, and it was my day off, otherwise I would have been stranded at work. The weather matched my aching heart completely: and still I cannot understand why, and how, Angel was found on the side of the road: she was always in the garden, and I often thought what a good girl she was to stay on the property, unlike some of the others. We will never know who, or why...

As I sat on the edge of the bed after a bath recently, I was thinking how our little routine would never be again: upon exiting the bathroom, Angel would come to cuddle with me, sensing the warmth off my skin and inside my bathrobe. This time, as I sat there, sniffling quietly to myself, little white Tristan hopped onto the bed and nudged me, as though he sensed my pain. He looked at me briefly with that at once funny and sad little face and then quietly lay down beside me...

"Life is sad
Life is a bust
All ya can do is do what you must."
(Bob Dylan)