Our flight landed nearly two hours late, last night, as it was snowing like crazy at DFW.

When we arrived home, we were glad to see Tinker and Little He. Lots of doggie hugs. We let Gigi the cat sleep with us, which was a mistake–she’s a huge purring machine, and we were already restless. We didn’t get much sleep.

It dawned very cold and clear here in Tampa and I headed out early to pick up Riley at the kennel. And picked up the bag with Puddin’s collar, scarf and meds.

Riley was happy to be home. But he looked all around, smelled Puddin’s usual sleeping spot. The dogs seem uncentered without their alpha. And the house seems very empty to us. It’s been a somber day, filled with disbelief.

Puddin’ had not been sick. But our in-home pet sitter told me that she is the fourth young chow she’s heard of in the five to eight-year-old range to die suddenly like that.

We were looking forward to our drive cross country with Pud and Riley. (The others are going by professional pet transport in an RV) We looked forward to her enjoying the cold California weather. I envisioned her in the family room, presiding over her brood and our household.

Of all the pets Michael brought with him, I got most attached to Pud. She smiled whenever she saw me, a gap-toothed grin, and her tail would wag with delight. Such a gentle girl.

We’re sad. And we’re lovin’ up all the others even more today.