I have not cried about you in over a week.
I carried your jingly collar around in my purse for a bit, but now it is in my “Mikey box”.
Last Tuesday, I was at the Y longer than I thought I would be and started to worry about you and then remembered that you were no longer waiting for me.
Your pal came over Friday night. You did not greet him and beg for cookies from his pocket.
I made soup on Saturday and dropped a carrot. You did not dive for it.
I took a nap in the afternoon. I thought how nice it would be if I had my nose in the back of your neck and I could sniff you.
I made an iced coffee and an ice cube slid from the fridge to the floor. You did not come running like a big nut to grab it. I picked it up and threw it in the sink to melt.
Nobody, I mean nodoggy has eaten any of my dirty laundry.
The back yard is all clean. There are no pooper doopers. The mulch is new and red and cedary.
I threw out your beds. They were all lumpy from all the washings after your seizures. I ran all your bowls through the dishwasher and put them in the Mikey box downstairs. I windexed all your nose smurb off the slider and the front door. I threw out all the toys you had chewed to smithereens. I gave a couple that were like new to Boo. I washed Kong and Orby and put them in the box with the bowls and the collar. I washed the car blanket. It is clean and will not smell like you again.
I picked up your ashes and it made me sick to my stomach. And then I wondered – how could so much dog fit into such a small box. And I don’t refer to your physical size but your emotional size – the hole in my middle.
But I am feeling better. I just reread my last blog – 4 Days without Mike. I no longer feel like I’m wading through an atmosphere as thick as peanut butter. I can laugh without feeling guilty. I sent an e-mail to the nice lady we met last time we were at the vet – the one from Poodle Rescue. You never needed anyone to rescue you. You had me.