The blood is slowly wearing off the seats. The smell of her breath is dissipating, or I am just used to it. There is very little to remind me of what she was, a collar, a leash, a sweater, a dish, ashes to ashes, dusty and worn memories. There are still thoughts, could I saved her, for a little while longer maybe. To provide me with comfort, but what of her, she never noticed, the pain, when I came through the door, she was the same Ginger she'd always been.
Nothing touches me quite so deep, nothing hurts quite so profound, as the empty place and the wonder, could I have been, ah but that is just reasoning, nothing matters now. She is gone, and no other will ever replace her. Ginger was one of a kind, for her breed, for her behavior, for her I was everything, and she was always there. I have yet to shed a tear, but they are near when I think of Gingerkins, the G-dog, Ginger, you will always be very special to me. I truly miss the little Ginger dog, didn't think I would, but I
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