Sleep well, Toddson.

ND, I continue to be astonished by your family. I hope that the pet psychic is the craziest it gets.

Black cats are the best...makes me sad other people don't think so.

I think they are gorgeous, but I've never had a black cat choose me.

I don't know whether I recommend getting a new pet soon after losing a beloved pet, or not. The right timing is so individual. Pachisi was my ... I like the phrase "soul cat". She died a week and a half before Harvey was born. The only reason I went to sleep that first night was that my heart ached so physically I thought it would simply stop. I was surprised to wake up in the morning.

Silver, Harvey's mom, was a young cat that Pachisi adopted out from under our next door neighbors. Silver got pregnant between the time they transferred her into my custody and when I could scrape up the $50 to get her spayed.) After Pachisi died, Silver clung to me as I to her. She would lie on my lap, purring, and I would pet her and feel the little ones squirming inside her. I knew there was a Harvey in there. After they were born, and I figured out which one was Harvey, I did not want to keep him. The color of his points was the same as Pachisi's main color (she was a muted calico, all blue and cream with white bib and feet). But he had an umbilical hernia - so short of turning him in to the humane society, I could not give him away.

When I took Harvey to the veterinarian to see about repairing the hernia, the vet was so taken with him that he dropped hints about what a great office cat he would make. A year later, their star vet tech confessed that if I had not been able to swing paying for the surgery and had to give Harvey up, she would have offered to take him. Over the years of being a patient at that clinic, Harvey was pretty popular with the staff there. Whenever we came in, all the techs would get excited and come to see him, not just whoever was to work with him for the visit.

But I kept him, and when he was little I carried him around everywhere I went at home. Yet I loved him like he was just a cat - I gave him food and water, played with him, petted and brushed him, but kept him (and the other cats of the household) at a distance from my heart. I knew he was special - I would bring individuals from the group home over to see him, and he would purr for them, tolerating noise and sudden movement and unskilled handling. In so many ways Harvey made it plain that his mission in life was to make me feel better. He was four years old when I finally realized I wanted to love him as wholeheartedly as possible with a heart that was still broken from losing Pachisi. And three years after that, for all his patience with my broken love, I gave him a Daniel.

I don't know whether the moral of this story is, "If you get a new pet quickly, it can comfort and distract you from your grief," or "If you get a new pet too soon, you might not be able to open up to their love for a while," or "It'll all work out in the end." My wish for you, bonny, is that when the time is Right (not by my perception or anyone else's) the Right Dog (or cat, or parrot, or lizard, or whatever kind of soul is Right) comes to you. If there was a way to bottle Harvey's healing love, I would send you the biggest bottle I could.

Thank you so much Andi. You are an angel of calm and comfort.

I haven't yet been able to respond to the scores of wonderful messages I have received. Some of them contain so much profound wisdom that they take my breath away. Others are just so kind and 'present.' I will answer every one as I am able.

I fell ill Wednesday night with a horrible uti and the medication I got for it is not working, so my misery is compounded.

Last night was the first time I've slept more than an hour at a time since Wednesday, thanks to a friend's very mild sleeping pill.

When I woke up, all I could think was, I have no reason to even be conscious right now, but then I remembered that my best friend calls me from Tucson every morning to tell me that she is waiting for me to call when I am ready.

I shambled into the kitchen to find the fancy mac and cheese that a neighbor I don't really even know brought me last night because he heard that I was having trouble eating. On the way to the kitchen, I passed the lovely little bouquets of flowers that two clients brought me. My fridge is stuffed with food and there is a stack of beautiful sympathy cards on my desk.

Last night, a friend from the March called and the youngest son of my surrogate mom called.

My March friend is so worried for me and said, several times, that she does not want me to be alone. I told her that I've invited friends to bring their dogs over and that energy has been good for me.

Ultimately, I said,"I have my invisible friends. I'm never, every, really alone."

So. Thank you all.

Andi, I'm certain that your experience will be mine. "If I ever get another dog" has been replaced in my mind with "When" because these last few days have taught me how much I don't want an empty house. BUT, in this moment I can't imagine loving another as much as I love Bartleby. I just can't see that as possible.

Still, with any dog that comes to me, I will be honorable and kind and thank him or her for helping me to get along.

Bonny, I think when a pet like Bartleby passes, you never love another animal the same way or maybe as much, but there is love in a different way.

I read Andi's post with Harvey boneless over my shoulder, purring.

Merry Christmas.

It's so good to hear from you, Bonny, that I'm typing from my phone, which I suck at. Your heart will let you know when the time is right.

BUT, in this moment I can't imagine loving another as much as I love Bartleby. I just can't see that as possible.

Of course not. Because love is not generic. It is particular to that person or animal or even place. I discovered this when I tried to put together a wedding ceremony out of poetry. Love poetry only works when it is very very specific so it was hard to find good poetry that could be adapted.

But I think the important thing for you, bonny, is to remember that you need a focus for your love. Whatever flavor or form it finds in that dog that will one day come into your life. I think for you - more than many people I know - loving is a form of mindfulness. It grounds you in the world. But the strength you get from love is in the giving of it.

It took me 18 months after Lucy to be ready for another dog. A friend whoblost her dog around the same time had a new puppy the next week. There's no rule other than what feels right.

Yep. It's all about what feels right. I hope it feels right sooner rather than later so you'll have a companion again, but it's all about when your heart is ready. Much love to all you have lost a furry family member recently.

I think for you - more than many people I know - loving is a form of mindfulness. It grounds you in the world. But the strength you get from love is in the giving of it.

Again, David, I am struck dumb by your insight. Love is my anchor to this world. The sense of being completely untethered that I feel is greatly eased by how wonderful people have been.