I leave Spain in twelve days, and I get back home to Kansas City two weeks from tomorrow. In the interim, I'll be spending a few days in Dublin and Toronto, which is way exciting. Though I will miss Córdoba dearly, and feel as though four months wasn't nearly enough time here, I'm eager to be home for a few short days before starting a summer job in Boston. There's nothing quite like spending an early June day in the sunshine surrounded by red juniper trees with planes flying over.
But more than that, I miss my dog, Annie.
We've had her since she was abandoned on our road when I was six or seven years old. She has to be at least fifteen or sixteen years old now, and considering this, I get extremely emotional every time I leave home.
Last Sunday, on Mother's Day, she got lost on our neighbor's property and somehow got stuck behind a barbed-wire fence. My parents found her, and apparently she's alright, but I'm still prepared to give her an extra big kiss on the head as soon as I get home.
I could write all day about how much I love my pets (my cat Summer means more to me than most people), but I realize that that's a little weird. Most people on the Internet really don't care about how cool I think animals are. Consider this post an extrication of long-term, distance-enhanced feelings of adoration.
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| June 2013 |
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| Just because January 2014 |
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