An era has come to an end.

Moa died two days ago. The stupid dog who ate too much, puked too often and smelled badly. The dog who hated other dogs, were suspicious of people and only a couple of months ago attacked and sunk her teeth into a harmless Golden Retriever. The dog who always took my spot on the sofa at the kitchen table. The dog who spent her summers on her back, bronzing her belly in the sun. The dog who I taught tricks and ran around and played with.The dog who’s been around for more than half my life. The dog who I respected and loved more than I will ever do any other dog.

For once, I did not reproach Whedon for making a seventh season of Buffy. There is death, tears, dog death and general misery. I watched nine episodes in a row and cried myself to sleep.

I’m okay, but I miss her.