It was our place. For most of 15 years. The little bungalow at Angora and Old Gate was a special place.
Home.
Where Harry barked and played. And breathed his last.
Where Lilly sang and cuddled on the couch.
Where Sally surveyed her realm through the street-facing windows.
It might have been a cacophony of doggy voices, but there was a warmth, a feeling of place.
Home.
The women who came and went left their own marks. For all of them, it wasn’t a home they could see sharing with me. They did for a few nights but they always left in the morning. All for others and bigger homes.
Their loss.
It was a place of love, kindness, reflection and resolve. So glad my son told me so many years ago to keep it.
Until now.
As we leave the former goat ranch we are reminded of so many memories. So rich in feeling and a place that is etched in our memories.
Bye. Love you, house.
Relentless
