i used to retreat to richie's when i became overwhelmed. i used his home and his mother's buttered bagels as a means of getting my life back together. there was always something safe about sleeping the next room over from him and waking up to his brother's video games. his dog would lick my face and let me hug it or try to ride it and take pictures with me. i have this very simple picture of us- the dog and i- both squatted down, both hair uncombed, both looking at one another. at the time the picture was one of 28 and the kind you look at for a moment and pass through. the dog is dead now. there is a gaping hole in my ability to love because of it. i've never had a dog and abbey was my surrogate. i am sad for the well it's sewn into my friends heart. i am sad that any means of self-renewal i will try again there will be vacant of doggie slobber and wild backyard romps. this dog was a better person than half the people i know; he was focused and familial. i am sad for richie's family because they are without a member. i ache for the cold kitchen morning's that won't have abbey's tired paws resting on its tile. i'm angry that this is reality and the ones you love just die. richie, your sorrow lays in my heart like a dampened towel and i will ring you out whenever you feel necessary.

2003-12-06, 12:11 p.m.
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