Cowards Way Out

This morning was probably worse than yesterday, a fitful nights sleep, no Gussie on the bed, no breakfast routine with her jumping round my feet, no breakfast sausage, no Gussie.
Yet everywhere I looked there were reminders, her food and water bowls, opened bags of treats, her bed in the dining room, her toys in every room. In the garden her paddling pool and tennis balls laying in the early morning sun.
The three of us felt dreadful, more tears, and I knew I couldn’t be in the house surrounded by all this today so we ran away.
We left for Braunton on the north Devon coast, 100 miles and three hours away. My couple of years as a bus driver proved useful as we dodged the holiday traffic, it looked as though half of England was on the move.
We stopped in Braunton for a sandwich before driving onto Croyde and a walk on the beach.
We spoke often of Gussie, sometimes laughing sometimes with tears, I know that with the passing of time it will become easier but I miss my little friend.
Clare drove home, a more direct route and we got back around 8:30.
Tomorrow I may start putting Gussie’s things away, not all of them, not all at once, despite the tears I want to be reminded of Gussie.

Today’s photo - the beach huts at Croyde Beach