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It has been 10 days since Chip was put to sleep. I am surprised it hasn't been a lot longer than that. Time seems to have slowed to a crawl.

The first full day after he died, I couldn't handle being in the house and fled to a movie ("WALL-E") for distraction. Since then, I have gradually gotten to where the silence no longer makes me panic. Now it mostly just makes me sad.

That Sunday, I mentioned during church that Chip had passed away. A lot of people remembered him from the blessing of the pets in August. Several came up to us after the service to express their condolences, which I appreciated.

Sometime during that weekend, I realized I was never going to quit expecting to see Chip in the house as long as his food dish, crate and toys were still in their usual places. But I got upset at the thought of throwing out everything of his. I decided I would keep his first toy and his first collar, but everything else would either be tossed or donated, and I felt more okay about it.

Last week, I contacted the local animal rescue center, which relies on donations to function, and asked what they could use. Then, while Dan was at work (I knew it would be upsetting and didn't want to put him through it), I went through all of Chip's things and either put them in a pile to donate or put them in a black trash bag quickly before I could freak out and change my mind. I set aside his wire crate, three of his dog beds, 11 of his toys, two retractable leashes, other assorted leashes and collars, most of a seven pound box of Milkbones, a king-sized rawhide bone, and unused needles and syringes for allergy shots.

After washing the dog bed covers and some of his near-new toys (the majority of the toys I set aside had never been played with), we were ready to take all of the set aside items to the rescue center. We waited until Saturday so Dan could go with me because the crate was too heavy for me to carry. My heart sank when I put the bag of Chip's toys in the car, but the folks at the shelter were so excited to get them, so I knew that I was doing a good thing.

This morning, I got the call from the vet's office that Chip's ashes were ready to be picked up. Dan offered to go, but I said I would because so far, I was holding up better than he. Still, I expected it would be pretty difficult emotionally.

I showed up late in the afternoon. The receptionist handed me a white plastic square wrapped in a grocery bag. As I carried it to the car, I was floored with the realization that my gorgeous 50 pound puppy was now in a tiny BOX that fit in my hands.

Thank goodness the house was only a few blocks away, because I was sobbing so hard I could barely see. Not knowing what else to do after I got home, I sat on the couch with the box of Chip's ashes and cried until I was so exhausted I fell asleep. After I woke up and collected myself, I looked up the address of a place that has containers for pet ashes, and asked Dan if he would go there with me tomorrow.

But believe it or not, except for today, I would say I am coping reasonably well considering. I find it surprising, though, that some things I expected to upset me haven't and vice versa. For example, seeing photos of other springer spaniels in a catalog was fine, but when I looked outside the other night and saw it was snowing, I began to cry because Chip wasn't there to dance around and eat the falling snow.

Now, the following will come across as completely insane, and it could be just a feature of grieving, but Dan and I have both experienced unexplained occurrences in the house that we think have something to do with Chip, and we find it comforting. For example, a week ago, Dan and I both heard something walking around downstairs on the plastic that is now covering an area where one of Chip's dog beds used to be. Also on various occasions since then, I saw a section of window blinds move of its own accord, saw the door to Chip's crate move and rattle softly like it used to when he moved it with his paw, felt something brush up against the couch at about the height of Chip's shoulder, and felt something graze the end of the bed while hearing something that sounded like a dog's sigh.

While my conscious mind is pretty keenly aware that Chip is gone, my subconscious is still sorting it out. I can tell because I dream of Chip nearly every night, and so far, in my dreams I have no inkling he has died. Sunday morning was particularly sad because I had a dream that seemed so real that I woke up with my arm over the side of the bed, trying to pet a dog that wasn't there.

I am soooo exhausted now. I know I will get through this, but not without a few more tears. Like the song (and Bible) says, to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven.