I dressed too quickly today and cried.  No one sat on my feet to keep me from getting into my pants.  No dog hair to brush off.  No reason to unlock the back door.  The yard is lonely and still.  No need to shake out the top sheet from the bed.  We go to dinner and clean our plates.  No need to bring home leftover beef, chicken or pork.  No excitement as we enter the house with our gifts.  Last night I went out back to soak in the hot tub.  There was no patrol for perceived threats in the darkness.  As my eyes became accustomed to the night, I looked around in the desperate hope of spotting a furry curled tail bouncing along behind the flowerbeds but to my disappointment there was nothing but cool, still air.  Nobody came to lick the water off my face as I exited the spa.  Back in the house there were no teeth to brush but my own.  No soft velvet-covered head on my belly, big brown eyes looking back at me with mutual adoration as we both drifted off to sleep.  More legroom in the bed than usual, and without a 60-pound weight on top of the blanket it migrated mostly to my side by morning.  In the morning, the foot of the bed was uncharacteristically smooth and undisturbed.  It wasn’t just a bad dream.  It wasn’t a nightmare.  He’s really gone.

 

 

Max, 12/2001-2/21/2012

 

This is from my brother who wrote about this horrible experience. 

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