You told me what I didn’t want to hear—you told me it was time. I cradled your head and stroked your beautiful body until your big heart stopped and then for a little while longer. I felt the emptiness and pain engulf me as you took your last breath.

I wondered how long it would be before I stopped turning to see if you were coming, before I didn’t start to call your name or prepare your dinner. Before I didn’t stoop to touch your head as I passed your favorite bed.

I have more time in my morning routine, less kibble to scoop and more left in the bucket. More cookies left in the jar. Fewer dishes to put down. How I long for it to take longer, for there to be less kibble and more dishes. My heart aches. I long to feel my hand on your shoulder, to hear your bark when I come home.

Then you force yourself into my mind with a wagging tail, loving eyes and open heart. Your toys squeak in my mind and a mischievous bark sounds in my ears. You show me pictures of the places we’ve been, you remind me of the games we’ve played and the walks we’ve taken.  I laugh as I remember the time you climbed into the front seat and ate a dozen raw goose eggs. I see you putting your ball in the creek and racing it to the bridge. I see you in the winter with snow on your head and in the spring rolling on your back in the fresh grass. You let me feel your beautiful spirit and your love. My heart, still broken, begins to heal. Now if I just listen a little, I hear your soft bark as your spirit begins to ease my broken heart.

Our lives, our hearts and our souls are eternally entwined in the all that I am. I am so blessed to have shared this life with you. I know we’ll be together again.