The last word

Walking With Scars

It is the   31. of July 2017, and this early morning around 6:45 my dog died in my arms.

One Winter day in 2006 I ventured a few miles out of Fairbanks and picked up a little german shepherd. We had just moved to Alaska a few months before, and lived in a cabin near Ester with our two little daughters. We named him Ivan.

Shortly after, I started working at the Artisan’s Courtyard close to the University of Alaska, as an artistic coordinator. My boss was fantastic. She had built a beautiful office for me inside the existing lobby area, and had it painted in warm tones of dark plum, light driftwood and darkest violet which appeared almost black. I turned it into a little haven which Ivan shared with me almost every day for several years. Girls visiting the ballet classes would often arrive early with their…

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