The Little House is full of reminders of Trygve. Now, 26 hours after his death, I'm having a powerful reminder of how "grief touches grief" as Joanne would frequently say. Dog owners live with the reality that, very likely, they will have to say goodbye to their pet at some point. Springers often live in the 13-15 year range so I hoped I'd have two or more years with Trygve.
Now, grieving Trygve's death, I'm plunged back into grief about Joanne's death, almost three years ago. I've learned to live with that grief, but as I'm plunged into new sorrow, I'm reminded of my place in the land of grief. Joanne loved Trygve and would also have grieved his death.
The circumstances of the last few months fascinate me. Pheasant hunting season opened in South Dakota on October 17 and closed December 31. Most days during that time Trygve and I went hunting. Because neither of us were young, and we could hunt again tomorrow, we didn't hunt all day, sufficient was one field or area for a day. We last hunted on January 25, and he seemed fine. Trygve stopped eating on the 28th and he died on February 4, 9 days after his last hunt. I'm profoundly grateful that he got all those days in the field before he died. He was so happy doing that and then coming back to rest in my presence.
Takk for alt,
Al
Trygve resting after the hunt. maybe dreaming of pheasants.
t
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