Puke Breakfast

I had a dream last night that Mark died.  Sitting right next to me.  Enjoying dinner out with friends, Mark just dropped dead.  It happened so fast that there was nothing any of us could do.  I woke up sweating and crying and was to sleep no more.  I hate these kinds of dreams.  They sit with you all day, festering in every thought that meanders through my brain.  Since I was no longer going to drift off in the great abis of dreamland, I put my arm around Mark and lay there thinking…such a bad idea.
My thoughts slowly went from the paranoia associated with losing Mark to the loss I have already experienced with Daisy and Ashley.  I was rather depressed.  (Isn’t it just wonderful how up beat and funny this post is?  I thought so.)  I was completely engrossed in the emotions and feelings of pain and sadness.  Then.  Monster puked up a large hairball and her midnight snack at the foot of our bed.  Mood changed almost immediately.  No no…do not get your hopes up.  It went from sadness over what I had lost to complete panic over what I have not lost yet.   Monster is 11.  Sandy will not live forever (especially at the rate she consumes mail).  And Mark!  I can’t even write that without tears welling up.  Moving on…
Mark seems to bookend this entire thought process which I think might be telling me something.  Let me whip out my abacus and protractors and come up with a formula.  OK, I got nothin.  Let’s all just drink a warm beverage of your choice, put on some yummy, soft socks, and try to forget I ever mentioned this horrible dream.

Sandy enjoyed her puke breakfast before I was able to get to it in case any of you haven’t quite “met” my dog yet and are scratching your heads about the title of this post.  Anyone that isn’t laughing by now, clearly does not have animals or kids.

1 Response to “Puke Breakfast”

  1. 1 geohde September 28, 2007 at 7:39 pm

    Oh yum,

    puke breakfast. My dog used to do that.


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