Here are some thoughts that run through your head when your dog's missing at 9:15 p.m.:
- I've never gone to bed without knowing where he is
- I wish he were here to do that annoying jump-on-the-covers-before-I-can-get-them move that he always does before bed.
- Is he cold?
- Is someone else loving him?
- Is he dead on the side of the road?
- He wasn't there to follow me to the bathroom at 3 a.m.
- He wasn't there, period.
- Was that him on the porch?
- Who will play ball with me and go swimming?
So last night I barely cried - like two tears. But then this morning, I tossed the covers off and really thought it was a bad dream. Until he wasn't there beside me, he didn't follow me to the bathroom, he didn't want to be let outside and he didn't do his whole other-wise annoying running off the porch and sailing into the yard.
Then I cried. And cried some more. I drove around looking for him and cried. I called the vet and started crying to her. I called my mom to wish her a happy birthday and cried. I read text messages and cried. I looked out the front door window where he should have been and cried. I got dressed and cried.
And I'll probably cry some more when I get home tonight if he's not there waiting for me.
Damn it, Marley. Come home. I'm tired of crying.