Beautifully Broken

A few weeks ago I came home from dinner to find my beloved Yorkshire terrier, Zoey, had passed away. She was thirteen years old and weighed all of five pounds. When she was younger ,she went everywhere with me. She flew in planes, traveled by motorhome, stayed in hotels, went shopping, and I carried her into restaurants in her travel bag. As she got older, she became more nervous, so she traveled only if we went somewhere in the motorhome, which was quite often. My nickname for her was Baby Girl.

Falling Short

Ever since my husband’s sudden passing I’ve turned things over and over in my head and my heart. I wish I would have said, “I love you” more often, held his hand more, and scratched his head and back every time he asked.