He was my first real responsibility, and it makes me sad that he’s no longer my roommate. Granted, an apartment in LFK is no place for a Brittany. He’s a beautiful dog, loves people, playing fetch, and barking at passersby, but an apartment hound he is not. That’s why he isn’t here.
Moving to a new place is hard. You have to get acclimated to new streets, people, everything. Other than a couple old friends and family members, this is a completely new life for me. I’m starting from scratch. Scary stuff. Dare I say too overwhelming if an overly energetic medium-sized animal was in the picture?
I miss my dog, but this is not the place for him. A town/city atmosphere is not where he thrives. It makes me said to say that, but there it is. Luckily there are a few ways to divert my attention away from missing my dog. Mostly that’s tackling one of the many processes involved in moving to a new place. So, you’ll know where I’ll be.
It weird how moving is such an exciting experience, yet, in that excitement are a dozen different emotions threatening to overwhelm each other. In my experience, the battle of the emotions is a stale mate. The only thing you end up with is a pleasant, yet fleeting, numbness. Sure I’m pumped to be in a new place- I’m SpReAdInG mY wInGs as it were -however, it’s also terrifying. I take it day by day, and even though Mowgs isn’t here to make a mess of things or snuggle up to me when I’m feeling down about life, I’m still excited. The numbness of saying countless goodbyes, enduring too many sleepless nights to count, and trying to avoid all things sentimental, is gone. In it’s place is a couple different feelings, but not enough to numb, just enough to embrace and feel. And that’s the best part of the adventure so far.
Until next time or not, I’m still Cait.