I was going to write a little about the ice storms we get here in Kentucky. A couple of years back, there was a paralyzing ice storm in Kentucky. Power was out in parts of our rural county for almost two weeks. Part of me knows that with a widespread outage like that, the power company will help more people by getting the power (and heat) back on in more populated areas first. Part of me resents having to wait until last. Luckily, the country turns out a pretty gritty kind of resident. At the time, we came to Chris's paternal grandmother's house, because she had a wood-burning stove in her kitchen (in additional to the one normally used for cooking.
Well, Mamaw passed in 2011, and last year we bought her house from my father-in-law and his two brothers. So when we had a couple of (less severe but dang cold nonetheless) ice storms this last winter, we were ready.
But, I'm not going to go into more detail because I am very sad tonight.
A few weeks ago, one of our dogs had eight puppies. One of them was a runt, about half the size of her brothers and sisters. I've been losing sleep the last couple of weeks, getting up several nights a week to feed her with an eyedropper. She seemed to be picking up and we felt safe enough to leave as a family for a couple of hours tonight.
When we came back, she was Gone. Not as in missing gone, but Gone with a capital G. As in the 'big sleep'. As in "All Dogs go to Heaven". My daughter, who is taking it worse than I am, called her "Ivory". Chris and our oldest son called her "Runt". I took to calling her "Little Bit".
Cup you hand for a minute. Not both, just one. Imagine a puppy small enough to fit there with space left over. Little Bit was that little. But she had a big heart.