Yesterday, our next-door neighbour died. I didn't know her--she's been seriously ill ever since we moved in, and I only met her once and very briefly. Her kids (15 and 11, I think) pet-sit for us whenever we go out of town, though, and Trent and I have started to get to know her husband. So it was strange and sad news to get.

On Saturday night, we had to rush Marlowe to the vet again. It seems she's injured her back, and so it's likely not serious, but at the time, I was sure something awful was wrong, and that we would have to put her to sleep. Until Danny, our across-the-street neighbour, came over Sunday afternoon to tell us the sad news, I felt that our veterenary bills and Marlowe's health were an absolute crisis. And frankly, my worry about a little dog has affected me more than the death of a woman who lived next door to me. I know that you might feel that this isn't something I should admit, or that I lack compassion, but it has me thinking about the spheres of our own lives, and the events that shake us.

I have a strange worry. I worry that something will happen to Trent and me--a car accident, or the onset of a disease that kills us both suddenly, and that, not only will we die, but our pets will starve, because no one will know to come and take care of them. It's okay--you can laugh at me. I know it's a very silly worry. In Edmonton, we knew without even thinking about it that if we didn't leave the house for three days, or if we stopped showing up for work, or didn't return phone calls that Greg and Nadine or Myrna or Phil or Paul or Toni and Brad or someone would know to check in on us. But here in Halifax, we're still relatively rootless. Please don't think I'm being self-pitying here. I'm just reflecting on the nature of personal relationships--how they're formed, and how they can root you within a certain community.

I had a really rough time in November. I was depressed and lonely and stressed out, but last month, when it came time to explain to Toni how miserable I had felt the month before, it sounded weak to my own ears--partly because I didn't feel that way any more, and partly also because I couldn't point to an event, a catastrophic happening that could account for how unhappy I had been. Cause and effect.

My next-door neighbour died yesterday. And, even though they were expecting it, I know that her husband and her two sons feel crushed and surprised, but I would be ashamed to try and express what their sorrow might be, and not only because I don't know them all that well.