I've been telling people "wow, I haven't blogged in a month!" for three months now. How quickly time flies between posts that you don't write. And this is one of them. I have no idea how to write it, but it's one of those posts I can't let myself skip. Not because I feel a pressing need to share it, but because the equation of my life won't make sense without it. And I'm a very linear person. So bear with me while I solve for X.
When I started this blog, Fury was 5. He turned 11 last month! I love reading his birthday posts and I always look forward to writing them. There's so much I could say this time around. I'm seeing him evolve by the minute from "little guy" to "guy" and it's as awesome as it is sad. He'll snark like a 30-year old, but will still reach for my hand when we're walking across a parking lot. Those are my favorite moments with him, and I know 11 will take that away from me. But I also know I'm going to love the hell out of whatever it brings me. Happy birthday, son.
On the same day he turned 11, Lisa and the kids were moving to their new place. The night before, as we were loading the moving truck, both dogs got out of the house.
Moving day/birthday started with a phone call from the police at 6:30am. And like all calls at 6:30am, it was accompanied by something you would rather not hear, but will be stuck on loop the rest of your days. Krypto had been struck and killed by a car, just minutes prior.
So, on the morning of Fury's birthday, on moving day, I pulled up in front of the middle school to meet two policemen who helped me place Krypto in the trunk of my car. Animal control doesn't work on Mondays, so I couldn't just leave him on the street. Not that I would. But the alternative they suggested of putting him in a bag until Tuesday didn't sit well with me either. I didn't know what to do. I just wanted him back with us.
We buried Krypto in the backyard.
"Well, it's only 9am," I told him. "What else could go wrong?"
This was April 15. Back in my hometown, the Boston Marathon was well underway.
And this is all I know how to say about this. I want to change Fury's age on my About page. I want to write about nonsensical, stupid things again. Boston is still the greatest city in the world.
Last night I sat in my backyard next to where Krypto is buried. I smoked a cigar and listened to the quiet, no closer to solving for X than I am now. But maybe that's the answer.