Grief.

 Grief is such a funny thing in the least ha-ha kind of way. We put Ruff down 10/24, which is exactly 4 weeks ago, and I still find myself crying on an almost daily basis. Today, I cried twice- once in the morning for who only knows what, and then again this afternoon in the car when I took a picture of Tater and Loki snuggled up in the backseat. I remarked on how cute they were and remembered my pictures of the two black dogs never came out so cute because you could never see which one was which. That's all it took. I sat there with eyes leaking the rest of the way home. 

I remember this from when my Dad died. The acute phase is terrible, but the insidious, ongoing, creeps-up-on-you-and-you-never-see-it-coming phase is worse. I remember the day I actually took out my phone and dialed his number to ask him a question months after he died. It was just so natural.. My boss found me running out of the locker room bawling.

I don't ride, I don't even watch horse videos anymore. I'm shipping Folly up to Maine because primarily I don't have a stall for her, but also because... I just don't want to deal with them. Poor Vera is stuck with me all winter, and I keep saying I'm going to get my shit together, but every day, I find something else to do. I don't know why, but Vera's had about 6-8 weeks off- which coincides with about when Rufus started nose-diving. I have delved into woodworking with a vengeance, canning all the fucking food, but have completely lost interest in my horses. 

I'm fine, most of the time. I think I'm escaping into busyness and reading, because I can't just be a nutjob. I have a job, I have a husband, I have a house and horses and a PUPPY. So, I just find myself leaking sometimes. That's not so bad, right?