My dogs and I have this ritual. They can speak, dance, wave, crawl and so on - but I can’t get them to stop attacking the sweeper. Yes, welcome to Ohio - we "sweep" carpets here.

I've now had a week to process this. In my life I've had 8 dogs. Lost track of the number of cats. Plus hamsters, mice, rats, rabbits, fish, birds and ducks. It's hard to say goodbye. Yeah. Even the fish.

Two cats. A dog. Work. My existence. Not half-full. Nor half-empty. Just. Shattered. Glass. To tread over. And over. And over again. Smearing bloody breadcrumbs. Of torture. Of misery. But the only sign. I was here.

My niece pushes her tiny dog around in a stroller. But to clarify. She does not keep any humans on a leash. That I know of. Well. I guess it explains the chokers. And purple and silver hair. Nope. Not going there.