Chapter FiveA
fresh sense of the sanctuary my cornflower-blue Craftsman-style home provided filled me the moment I pulled into my driveway. The two hours I’d been away felt like days, and all I wanted to do was collapse on the couch and sleep away the afternoon.
Instead, I gave Yogi a fresh bowl of water and two Milk-Bone biscuits. It had been an unsettling morning for him too.
I knelt on the cool linoleum floor, stroked one of the streaks of caramel-colored fur in his white coat, and looked into my sweet dog’s brown eyes. “If you need to talk about it, buddy, I’m here.”
Yogi gave a soft woof, put a paw on my knee, and licked my cheek. To translate from the canine: “Ditto.”
The woof did it. I pressed my cheek on the soft fur of Yogi’s head and sobbed for several minutes, pouring out
