I thought that continuing these birthday posts after you and Ralphie had passed would be difficult. And it was, for a while.
But this year I found myself…smiling. Laughing, even. For the first time, the joy at having loved you outweighed the sadness of losing you. As I scrolled through years of pictures and memories, I felt an unexpected lightness in my heart. And also a paradoxical fullness. It’s a weird feeling. Nice, but strange and unfamiliar.
I think about you every day, my sweet girl.
I see you, freshly sprung from jail and with a grin that’s as crazy as it is infectious, every time I gaze at Jayne.
I see you in Mags’s face, especially her “get bent” expression, and in her fierce love for me.
I see you in Rennie, sunbathing alone (or sometimes with Finnick) on the picnic table, or graciously accepting a good face scrubbing from Mags. (I know where you stand on THE MAGS ISSUE, but I think you’d be grateful on Rennie’s behalf, if only you could see how Mags cares for her in your absence.)
I see you in bags of Dandies and pictures of baby seals and every Wonder Woman cartoon, ever.
Some days, I feel you in my heart, dancing an excited lawn dance just for me. Those days are the best days of them all.
You are my daemon, forever and always.
There’s nothing I can say that will top Kaylee’s address, so I won’t even try. I do love you, even though I’m not always quick to show it. Although, to be fair, that’s usually on account of you’d rather I not. And that’s okay! I love you just the way you are, social awkwardness and all.
Whenever you’re ready for that belly rub, I’ll be right here waiting.
Seventeen Little Kaylee Things
Thanks to this visionary, all the dogs are now sufficiently spoiled!
(Are you detecting a pattern here?)
(Not it, but close enough!)
Especially that one July 4th she escaped to the bathroom cabinets.
(Note to Paul Feig: PLEASE MAKE THIS HAPPEN IN THE REBOOT.)
Eleven Little Jayne Things
Always on the periphery, this one.
Like that one time she provoked a woodchuck into biting her – but she played it so cool that we didn’t discover the wound until hours after the fact.
Never leave books unattended around Jayne, or she will transform them into papier mache artwork.
Ditto: tp, manilla envelopes, cardboard tubes, and all the paper things. The recycling bin is her brown heaven.
In the past year or so – roughly since she started wetting the bed – Jayne’s naps have begun to resemble mini-comas. Whereas the other dogs run for lunch as soon as they hear the dishes clink, not even loud shouts across the house can reliably summon Jayne if she’s sleeping. Nope, you have to shake her awake, and sometimes that doesn’t even work. A few times Shane and I have been able to lift up her head without waking her. Cute, but super-creepy. I’ve mistaken her for dead on more than one occasion.
Pools and bathtubs, not so much.
My favorite: As I’m petting her, she acts like it’s borderline abuse; yet when I stop, she looks at me like I’ve hurt her fee fees.