Champa, the lab in the photo with the black cat was put to sleep on Friday, May 8th. She had Cancer. She had been sick a lot, but I still wasn't expecting it, wasn't ready. My faith is a bit wobbly now, and I know others grieve for animals, children, friends, relatives, lovers, husbands all over the world. I know I can talk myself up and restore my faith. I went through something similar when my mother died. I didn't want faith. I wanted t be with the grief, and work my way through the muck at the bottom. I took Champa with me everywhere. She pretty much guilt-tripped me into that. She was a therapy dog, and now when I need therapy the most, she's gone. My husband said he'd take her place; he'd be ther for me. God, it's funny, my husband trying to take the place of a dog (My husband has a phd in physics). I keep looking at photos of lab rescues and shelters and kennels and lab puppies. It's all overwhelming. She can't be replaced. She was too silly, expressive, loving, intuitive, mischievous and creative. I'd say "Do something good!" and wait to see what she did. She'd sit, give me her paw, lie down or whatever she wasn't doing already. It was one of our games. She also did the tango, but would sit perfectly still and let me dance alone from time to time when people were watching, and she'd just sit there, and you could tell she was laughing. She worked with homeless and mentally ill women, altsheimer patients, my students in independent studies, and at a shelter for abused, abandoned and neglected girls. (There goes my spelling) She was always soulful, sometimes silly, not always good. RIP Champa Marie. I love you with all my heart.