Miss Holly is getting a much-needed teeth cleaning today. I didn't realize how bad it was until I took a hard look the other night. I know I'd want a cleaning if I had that much plaque so off she goes. She's lost a big 2.5 pounds, not bad for only 3.5 weeks in our family.

I stopped at Starbucks after I dropped Holly off. One of the baristas (are men baristas or something else like baristars?) knew Ellie because he'd hang out at the vet's (next door) during his break. We were in every 2 weeks all summer so he'd seen us a lot. This morning he saw me in line and asked how the pup was. I couldn't answer, just shook my head and tried not to cry. Isn't this supposed to get easier?

I know that death is not an experience unique to me, that on some level we've all been through it. I've buried friends and relatives, but in all of those cases, I was one step removed from the actual death. With Ellie, I was right there, holding her as she took her last breath. Somehow, that experience has made me different.

Right after I lost my virginity, I felt totally different, like somehow I was a grownup now or I knew some deep secret that I didn't realize everyone else knew, too. I kept thinking that I looked different, that I wasn't who I was the day before and that if you looked hard enough, you could see it.

That's how I feel now. Do I look different? Older, wiser, sadder, somehow more in tune with the ways of the universe? I don't know, I only know that I did right by her, loving her with all my heart. That probably is making losing her harder but she didn't deserve anything less than all of my love.