Writer's Block Road Block

The ordinary crises of daily life have kept me from
writing for this blog. And more. Getting a building
erected and moving about 8,000 books and pieces of
ephemera into it, a process still going on, along with
a winnowing of the books and bits because the building
from which they are being moved is about four times the
size of their destination. And more.

Three members of my family have died this year, most
recently the dog that has shared my life for a bit
more than thirteen years. And only those whose lives
have been as interdependent with that of a dog or cat
will understand when I say that my heart was pierced
more severely by his loss than by the loss of either
of my relatives. For I had contact with them only
occasionally, but Buckie was with me every day, greeted
me each morning and evening, rode along in the van with
me most of the time, and slept beside my bed each night.
I've had one other dog and one cat that I dearly loved,
and several that I liked a lot, but Buckie was the most
wonderful dog I have ever known. He leaves a big hole in
my life. All around me now are echoes of his absence.