Grief.

Friday, our beloved family pet, our 17 year old little ball of fur, was put to sleep. I still see her curled up on the couch next to me. I forget I can't leave gift wrapping ribbon out. She will chew on it & make herself sick. Yes, I even think I see her hiding from Otis, peeking around the corner, keeping tabs on him, second guessing his antics, & playing detective. Every now & then,  out of the corner of my eye, I see her running  (full of life & full of the dickens).

I believe this is grief. This is missing her. It is the measure of the joy she brought to my life, the special little place she held in my heart (her personal spot). I see her pretty colors, her soft swirls of caramel & cream, with muted tones of grey. Her beautiful eyes look up at me with an understanding deeper than most humans. If I close me eyes, I can feel her soft fur against my face. Sweet comfort.

I think Otis misses her. Since the day she passed into the Heavenly realm, Otis is sleeping in the hallway outside our bedroom door. Otis has always loved to go to bed. He loves to jump up on the bed & snuggle in for the night. He anticipates bedtime. It's a part of his routine, something  from which he always refused to be  excluded. It's his special ending to his day.

Now he lies in the hallway like a sad little boy. If he could speak, I think his sorrow would overwhelm me. His little companion is gone. No more poking her with his nose. No more chasing her, pretending he would eat her if he caught her. She will never smack his face again with her paws. Who will taunt him now? Goodness, what will he do with his time? 


A small but significant part of our lives is gone. She sparked excitement in our home. The laughter she brought was healing. She provided hours of entertainment & companionship for Otis. Understandably, he's a bit lost without her. So am I.