O ne day, my dog Joey will be gone. Not today, not tomorrow, but the day is coming — and coming sooner than I'd like. I think about this way too much. And then I kick myself for spending time thinking about this, because it could be more time spent with Joey.
But guess what? I'm terrified. From the time he was a baby, I would sneak up next to him while he was sleeping to check that he was breathing. Now? I don't even wait till he's asleep.
How do you do it? How does anyone do it — prepare yourself for this incomprehensible and unfair loss? Dogs should live a lot longer than humans. And yes, we've all had loss. For me, it was two parents (early), a beloved editor, and, more recently, a wonderful friend who died by suicide. He left his precious dog behind, which made me think he was so terribly depressed, he actually thought Raj would be better off without him.
In my deepest, darkest days, that thought also crossed my mind. But then I'd look at Joey, and I just couldn't leave him. Where would he go? How would he be taken care of? Joey has two godmothers — my cousins Cathie and Helene. I know they would lavish him with love. But during the pandemic, when I was living in Louisiana and beside myself, I had to think: How would they get there to get him with the travel bans? So basically, Joey saved my life. Because I couldn't possibly leave him. But let's
