A Dog’s Life
“I’M SORRY about Shorty,” Bob said at breakfast that morning, “but you’ve cried every day for a month over a dog.”
My new husband’s voice held a hint of impatience as he handed me a tissue. I knew I had to quit grieving, and I had asked for the Lord’s help, but saying goodbye to a dog I’d loved for 17 years wasn’t easy. Especially while I was also trying to put down roots. We’d moved to Idaho on an Air Force transfer, after I’d lived in Oklahoma all my life. Back home, Shorty had seen me through a lot.
“I know you’re right, honey, but with you working 12 hours a day six days a week, I have too much time to sit and miss my Shorty dog.” Maybe I needed a job to keep me busy.
That morning when Bob left for work, I
