Tomorrow we head to Chicago, which would usually be a celebration time for me.
OPERATION MOVE TO NICARAGUA is in effect, however. And OMTN means that our dog will have to find another home. She is not only a super-nervous dog that could not take a flight, but she also has a heart murmur that is not an everyday problem but makes it impossible to put her in the belly of a plane. Going over four border crossings of crappy countries with her is also too risky.
So a few months ago I asked my ex, who had many friends who adored my dog, if any of them would be interested in taking her in. I figured that even though we don't know exactly when we'll move, it's better to get her into a new home when she is middle-aged (9 years old, a small dog) than waiting 'til she's on her last legs. He immediately stepped up and said he would love to take her himself.
So tomorrow we will drive eight hours to have Lucy the Dog go to live with her second-favorite person in the world (after Mr. krista), with a bunch of people who work out of a house and can therefore keep her company 24 hours a day instead of her usual eight, with an "uncle" and "aunt" with a farm in Michigan that she absolutely loves, and will be able once again to spoon with her pit-bull boyfriend.
Meanwhile, Mr. krista and I are devastated, no matter how well we know that this is better for her.