Hey Dad,

I've been feeling a strong urge to catch up with you today. More than usual, that is.

I saw you in my dream last night. I was shopping for a present for Taylor, browsing an adorable selection of Sesame Street banks, when you sashayed into the same store as me to do a little shopping of your own. You looked exactly like I remember you, like I always want to remember you, in your Lee jeans, your green Carhartt jacket, a black cap, and your brown hiking boots that were never once used for hiking. The unpleasant dreams I usually have about you are hard to take, there's no doubt about that, but I would take one of those dreams every night of the week if I could have one like last night's once a month or so. It was nothing extraordinary but you were so well and normal looking.

I still think about you every day and think of all the things I would tell you if I could talk to you. I've fallen behind on these letters more than I wanted to or planned to, but life just doesn't want to slow down sometimes, especially now that I have a puppy.

Oh, the puppy. You would adore her, but you would shake your head if you knew how much we paid for her, especially in light of all the health problems she's been having. She has a permanent skin condition that we've been told by the vet is primarily cosmetic. It's really just a bad case of dandruff, but we are to bathe her once a week and keep up on brushing her or she runs the risk of getting a skin infection. We've had her for just over a month now and haven't had the bath experience yet, as the vet did a biopsy two weeks ago to confirm the disease, and didn't want us bathing Maisy until her stitches were out. You should have seen the poor thing. She had three big shaved, bloody spots on her back. To make matters worse, she has a condition that, for both us and her, has been far more painful than the skin thing. I couldn't tell you the technical name for it, despite hearing it at least a dozen times, but I can tell you that essentially her bottom eyelids are turned inward and her lashes are rubbing against her eyeballs, causing irritation and lots of tears. So, the same day as the biopsies and a few vaccinations, the vet decided to temporarily "dock" her eyelids. I couldn't look at the poor thing for almost two hours after Nic brought her home and carried her into the house. Her face was really swollen and her bottom eyelids were sticking out so far that I swear I could have seen down into her innards if I'd forced myself to look.

The poor little thing has been slowly recovering and we even got a few good days of happy Maisy with no lampshade around her neck and no irritation in her eyes. She was like a totally different dog, much more energetic and happier than usual. Unfortunately, one of the lids flipped back inward and that eye started watering again. We took her in today to have her back stitches removed and, while we were there, a doctor other than her regular doctor took a look at her and decided it wouldn't be worthwhile to dock the lid on that eye again. So, he sent us home with a cream that we have to put on her eye ball six times a day. Later, another doctor called and told us that she thinks we should go ahead with the procedure to (hopefully, fingers crossed!) fix her eyes permanently as soon as possible. Nic made an appointment for a week from tomorrow and figured, what the hell, might as well get the spaying out of the way that day too. That promises to be a miserable weekend and I'm already anticipating that I'll cry most of it away.

This is such a stupid and whimsical notion and I'm sure it's almost entirely due to the fact that Maisy was born so soon after you died, but a part of me actually believes that you sent her to me, to help heal the pain. I have learned more in one month from one little puppy than I ever though possible. It didn't come easy, but I have come to terms with the fact that there are times when I will need to cancel my plans at the last minute and it SUCKS, but sometimes the most unpleasant things are the most important things. Red had a free room at a nice resort up the shore a couple weekends ago and I was supposed to go with her. Mike was going to babysit but Maisy had her biopsy and first eye procedure the Wednesday before and she was such a mess that I just couldn't justify leaving her with anybody else. I was beside myself upset about missing out on the fun girls' weekend that had been so built up in my mind but, in the end, I'm so happy I stayed home. That resort isn't going anywhere. My puppy needed me. I will most likely have to cancel much-anticipated plans to go out in Tower with Aurora this weekend and, surprisingly, it's a lot easier the second time around.

For all the health problems, all the hours I've spent worrying and agonizing about Maisy, all the tears I've shed already while she's been in pain, all the tears I've shed because of my own disappointments at having to cancel plans, all the shit I've had to clean off of my shoes, the front yard, and the kitchen and bedroom floors, all of the weekend mornings I've been awakened at 5:15, all of the weekday mornings I've been awakened at 2 or 3am, all of the mostly sleepless nights on the couch listening to Maisy struggle to get comfortable in her crate with that damn lampshade on, all of the stress of the kennel trying to take her back, I wouldn't do it any differently if I could go back in time. She's an angel and I love her and she so clearly loves me. You always said you can't imagine coming home and not having a dog to greet you and, as much as I loved Sam and love Lucy, I don't think I ever fully understood that feeling until now. The laughs far outweigh the tears. Dad, I caught her licking the jam off of my toast one morning and actually just shrugged my shoulders and ate it anyway. You know that's not me. I just hope and pray that when we get through this initial bout of health issues, we will have a happy, healthy dog to love for many years. And when I'm not hoping and praying for that, I'm hoping and praying for the strength to just get us through until that day comes.

Tonight I finished reading a book called Still Alice about a Harvard professor who is diagnosed with early-onset Alzheimers disease just before the age of fifty. Although I would have given anything to have you around for another twenty years, this book reinforced my gratefulness that you at least went quickly and we didn't have to see you get old and your quality of life deteriorate. I was always a little terrified that we might lose you to Alzheimers someday, maybe because you could never seem to remember my name, especially when your sister was in the same room? I don't think I could have handled you ever looking at my face and not knowing who I was.

Red and I have booked our annual late spring/early summer getaway. We're headed to Seattle three weeks from today. I tried to get out of it this year, sure that I shouldn't be spending any money with the wedding coming up (ha, like that's happening...the saving money, not the wedding...the wedding is DEFINITELY happening), but she talked me into it, mostly by offering me a loan until after the wedding. I am excited and you know what? Why the hell not? I'm getting married in October (holy shit!) and with marriage comes kids (hopefully) and before you know it, it won't be so easy to just get away anymore. I know way too many people who have gotten married, had kids, and settled into their lives only to regret not seeing more of the world while they had the chance. So, see it I will. In fact, Nic and I have already discussed travelling to Italy about a year after the wedding. Hopefully all of the pieces fall into place.

You know, Dad, as much as I miss you, I try to make sure to thank God each and every day for allowing me twenty-seven and a half years with you. I'm one lucky girl and, yeah, losing you was and continues to be awful, but I wouldn't trade our time together for anything in the world.

Love you,
Angie