You've Got to Face the Pain
A few days ago on my way home from work, I received a call from our son that Audi, our beloved beagle, had been hit by a car. There was no surviving this one as Audi faced her fate head on at the mercy of the bumper of a Mercedes-Benz. As I arrived a few minutes later, Audi was being buried by the guilt-ridden hands of our oldest, who blames himself for his puppy's untimely demise. We sat our girls down (now 4 years old) to unravel the story and explain the reason why Audi was no longer in our midst. They both looked at me plainly and began asking questions: "So Audi won't eat anymore? Not even dog food? Is she sleeping? If we die can we go see her?" Thankfully, they are well versed in canine fatalities as we processed the death of our neighbour's dog only months before. They casually got up and walked into the kitchen asking if they could put socks on their hands to climb the walls like a gecko. I muffled through the existential rhetoric pulsing through my mind; ...