Saying goodbye.

There's been a lot of upheaval in my family's life recently. At the first part of July I took a new job that is about 500 miles away from where we had been living. Since then I have been living with family members while Mrs. Spiff and the kids wait on the house to sell. A few trips to see Dad just doesn't seem to be the same as all living under the same roof. Couple that with the older two being a little upset about moving and the entire situation is tiring.

Needless to say, I wasn't thrilled when my wife called last week to tell me that one of the kids' dogs was sick. We have two miniature dachshunds. They are great with the kids and much loved. The smaller of the two, Ginger, was throwing up and had been for a few days.

Several trips to the vet and many phone conversations later things were not good. It was looking like just a matter of time before the worst happened and the kids had their first experience in losing a pet. Mrs. Spiff had warned them that this might be coming. I was still concerned when I got the late night call that Ginger had passed away.

Mrs. Spiff had been planning on coming to see me and decided to move the trip up a few days. Her thinking was that it might be better to bury Ginger on relatives' property close to were the family will land rather than bury her where they are now and then have the kids lose her again when the move comes.

The burial was on Tuesday. All did well while to box was laid in the grave. It was quiet as I shoveled the dirt on. Only when Spiff Jr. and I began to pile rocks on the grave did Sis really begin to cry. I had been concerned that this would be hardest on her. At five years old it's hard to say goodbye to a pet you can't remember not being there. Even harder when your whole life is in upheaval.

Too many goodbyes.