Here we go!

My dog developed a limp on her right-front paw. She started limping Sunday, June 9th.
I poked around and discovered two burrs in the fur right above her paw. I cut them out.
But I figured I better have the vet check it. Once it was an inch-long thorn between the pads. I couldn’t find any such thing, but to me a limp could be serious.
So we went to the vet.
“Is she licking it?” the vet, a woman, asked.
“No.”
They took her outside for a walk. Still limping slightly, about every fourth step.
The vet concluded I shouldn’t worry. If she’s still limping after a week, call back. —She doesn’t appear to be limping now.
“You may or may not know it,” I said; “but my wife died over a year ago.’
The poor vet reacted like she’d been punched in the solar-plexus.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said.
I started crying.
The skirts love that, that a husband would be so devoted to his wife.
“So now I’m the only one to entertain the dog, and I feel like I’m failing.”
“Well you’re not,” the vet said. “You seem to have a very healthy dog.”
This tearing up seems to never go away.
It happens all the time, and I never can stifle it.
I miss my wife dearly.
It doesn’t take much.
All I gotta do is say anything, and I start bawling.
At which point I say “Here we go!”

• My current dog is “Scarlett” (two “Ts,” as in Scarlett O’Hara), a rescue Irish-Setter. She’s eight, and is my sixth Irish-Setter, a high-energy dog. (A “rescue Irish Setter” is an Irish Setter rescued from a bad home; e.g. abusive or a puppy-mill. [Scarlett was from a failed backyard breeder.] By getting a rescue-dog, we avoid puppydom, but the dog is often messed up. —Scarlett isn't bad. She’s my fourth rescue.)