My Willie

Last night I had a dream where there were three bloodhounds in a hotel room, a puppy, and adolescent, and an adult.

And someone decided to post a live feed of puppies as post-election 'therapy'.

I sit down to eat some lunch and have to set it aside for five minutes because I'm crying like my grandfather did at my grandma's funeral.

It's three weeks shy of a year since we had to put him down and I still think about him every day. I miss the big, hairy, drueling, smelly son of a bitch. I miss my Willie.