Missing the Old Girl

Today was a truly gorgeous day here on Long Island. It was sunny and mild and I don't even care if it was a Spring Tease, I was bound and determined to get my hands into some dirt. I planted some lettuce and my strawberry plants and...okay, some flowers that may die a slow lingering death by almost-frost... It was lovely. Last year, I was so impressed by the fervor with which Long Islanders embrace Spring. THIS year, having weathered the long winter, I have a whole new understanding.

So, I planted. And at some point I realized that I had both of my garden gloves from last year, despite the fact that I'd left them carelessly on the back steps.

It made me sad.

You see, my old dog Sydney, who died right before Thanksgiving, always stole one of my gloves when I left them lying about. Not just ANY old glove, either--always the right-handed glove. At one point, I had about sixteen gloves --all left-handed. I guess since I'm right-handed, my right glove must have smelled more like me or something. But she would steal the right one and then chew it and bury it...I was always finding the remains. It made me laugh, if only in exasperation.

Gosh, I still miss her so much.

So, I was pretty amazed when Coop came home, gave me a hug and said, "I think it's time to look for a puppy."

And I said, "Okay."