I'm in a funk.

The last couple of weeks have been none too special around these parts. I'm in a definite funk, which took root sometime in June I think, and has been sprouting in my brain ever since.

I've noticed in the last year that seasonal shifts are really hard for me. So, that's part of it. I feel like I'm in a holding pattern during these times, when we're not quite out of the summer yet, and not quite into the fall. I anxiously anticipate fall every year, it's my favorite season. But this year, I feel like if it doesn't come soon -- if we have just one more fucking heatwave -- I'll just... I don't know. I feel like I just won't make it.

I'm slightly less emotional than I was the week after we lost Hosie, but I think I'm still a little depressed. I'm always tired, even first thing in the morning. Even after my fourth cup of coffee. Maybe I need to take Patti's advice, and stock up on Floradix. It can't hurt.

Sometimes, after studying my face for a couple of seconds, Hazel will say "Is that your sad face? Are you going to cry?" Then she'll come in for a hug and say "I know you miss Hosie, Mama. It's O.K. Maybe we can get a cat!"

I joined our local YMCA this week, so I could have a place to dump the girls and mindlessly swim, or run on the treadmill, and finally work off the last 20 post-Violet pounds. (Is it really still considered "post-partum weight" almost 17 months later?) But since Violet has a cold and is caked in snot, we haven't been back to take advantage of it.

*Sigh.*

I keep reminding myself that in just a couple of short weeks, I'll be taking a 3 day trip to Oregon -- alone. My first time away from both girls, ever. If Violet uses the opportunity to wean herself, cool. If not, cool. Either way. If I can just make it to October 13th, I'll be home free. I'll have three days to recharge my batteries, celebrate a dear friend's wedding, and enjoy the beautiful drive to Ashland.

My new mantra: "October 13th, October 13th, October 13th..."

Oh, shit.

October 13th is a Friday.

Remembering Hosie, With Love.

We lost a very dear member of our family over the Labor Day weekend.

Our dear, sweet, dog, Zoe, is no longer with us. I'm still pretty emotional over her loss, and I miss her deeply, and I'm not quite sure I'm really up to writing this post at all, but... as CityMama reminded me recently, some things just need to be given over to the universe. So, here goes.

//Deep breath//

//Exhale//

Everyday last week, I sat down to blog about Hosie, as my grandma nicknamed her, and what she meant to me, to our family, and what a wonderful dog she was. But the words just wouldn't come. How do you reduce six years of love and companionship, to a couple of paragraphs? How do you memorialize your best friend? How do you wax philosophical about a loss that doesn't even seem real to you? I guess you go back to the beginning.

When I first decided I wanted a dog, I was at an emotional crossroads, and really needed some unconditional love. I saw an ad on Craig's List for Zoe, who was living in the house she was born in, with a nice family. She was the runt of the litter, and the favorite of the little girl in the family, a 3 year old, who slept with Zoe in her bed. The family didn't feel they had room for another dog in the house, despite their daughter's attachment to her, and this is how I came into the picture.

I knew as soon as I saw Zoe that she was coming home with me. And within a matter of days, she did.

She was a tiny thing, a little golden nugget, not even 20 pounds at 4 months old. She was afraid of the wind, and the traffic on Ceasar Chavez Street. She was too clumsy too walk down the stairs in our Mission district flat, without help. She was like Hazel or Violet was at that age, always wanting physical contact with me, never letting me out of her site, peeing all over the house. I had no idea that a dog could be so emotional, so cuddly, so loving. We couldn't have been a better match.

When Hazel came along, a year and a half later, Zoe was sweet and gentle with her. She would lay at my feet when I changed diapers, and cuddle with us on the couch while we nursed. She liked to smell Hazel's bald head, and lick her tiny little feet. We didn't force Zoe to give up her nighttime spot on our bed when Haze came on the scene, and I think she appreciated that, and valued being part of the pack.

When Violet came along, Zoe was excited to meet her, and seemed to take her responsibility of guarding two little girls very seriously. Violet struck up a special relatioinship with Zoe when she was old enough to pursue Zoe's company. They had an unspoken agreement, that in exchange for a percentage of all Violet's meals and snacks, Zoe would always make room for Violet on her cushion in the living room, and allow her to mess around with her food and water bowls daily. It was an arrangement that suited them both.

Zoe was a wonderful friend to our children, and our friends' children, to Mike, and especially to me. Her death came, like so many faithful family pets' do, before it's time. She will always have a place of honor in our hearts, and I will never, ever forget her sweet-smelling ears, her goofy sense of humor, her loyalty to our family, or all those nights spent cuddling in bed.

I love you, Zoe. I hope you are resting peacefully.