It was hard to leave her behind when I moved, even though I know she's better off not being cooped up alone while I'm at work every day. Abbie's getting close to nine years old, but I'm not ready to lose her. I still think of her as my little baby, like this:
Taken the day we brought her home in June 1998. She was four weeks old.
Abbie all grown up
I'm really glad I'm going home in ten days to spend a couple of weeks with her. With midwinter in Seattle in January, I'll get a few more days with her soon after, as well. It sounds awful, but missing Abbie is harder than missing the people I left. The phone and email keep me in touch with friends and family, but there's nothing like that that works for dogs.