I dreaded looking at my Facebook memories today because I knew what would be waiting for me. I was right. The pictures of our little pup were waiting for me to look at.
It has been a year since he was underfoot. A year that we haven’t heard him wheezing and crying in his sleep. A year that we haven’t had to vacuum once a day to keep up with the shedding. A year that we haven’t tripped over him accidentally .
I have spent the day trying to talk myself into acknowledging how much easier this year has been. We have saved on trips to the store to pick up his food. No vet visits. No stress over how he is feeling and if there was something I could do to make him more comfortable.
We said that we would give ourselves a year to decide if we were going to get another dog. We decided months ago that he was, in fact, our last dog. We are still good with that decision. But, we still miss our little guy.
I went I to the place in our yard where we laid him to rest. I talked to him even though I know he could not hear, and I did shed a few tears.
As Agnes Sligh Turnbull said, “Dog’s lives are too short. Their only fault, really.”
Thanks for stopping by, Cathi (DAF)