and they never really stopped, they just kept on walking...

It took time. A lot of time. The memory of Zimba and Lakota and their lives with us never faded, but somehow, through the miracle of living became less painful, and even happy. Eventually I I could think of them without feeling an ice pick in my chest. But I didn't want another one. No way, not now not ever. The memory of my dogs had become pleasant, but the memory of the grief we felt after their passing had not ebbed, even a little. Having two dogs put down on the same day was simply too much, and I was done, and so was Cheryl.

But Mr. Wilson had just begun. It took four or so years for the spirit of Zimba and Lakota to find him, but they did, and he let them in, and keeps them close to his heart, and shares them with us every now and then, when we need it most. But for the most part, he is simply Mr. Wilson, and we are happy to have him.