It doesn’t seem like twelve days and four hours ago that I said goodbye to Kye.
Today, her ashes are ready for me to collect from the veterinary clinic. I’m about to make my way there now. I know it’s not her but I need to bring them home. Hopefully someone somewhere might scatter us together off the cliffs at Portland Bill or at the top of Grouse Mountain, when that time comes.
I know it’s just ashes. I know that but it’s a small comfort and, despite my head telling me it’s ridiculous and meaningless, one I feel compelled to cling to.