Over the past several months, I've been feeling increasingly guilty--because I resented taking care of an aging dog, one who required special food, special medications, who often smelled funky because of various skin problems, who sometimes had digestive difficulties requiring major cleanups. And let's not mention the expense. On top of that, I had full responsibility for Maddie as the result of a divorce, so at times, my resentment over that split spilled over on to her. Not fair, but true.
So, now, I feel a bit relieved. Which also makes me feel guilty. But then the guilt is assuaged by the fact that this really was the best choice, and I know that, so I'll get over it.
Anyway, it's weird to come home to an empty house. The GF asked me when the last time was that I lived without a dog, and I think it was just three years, between 1989 and 1992. And during that time, I lived with cats. Lots and lots of cats. But now, the house is quiet. And I don't have to get home to care for anyone. And I don't have to get out of bed to take anyone outside.
And that's not necessarily a good thing.