Candles = Memories

I can feel the holiday season coming already. I'm not too excited about it right now, but nevertheless, I bought scented candles the other day, and I was reminded of a funny little story that took place while Sparks was still around:

I had returned from grocery shopping and had purchased a set of vanilla-scented candles. I lit them immediately and started unpacking the groceries when suddenly I felt a nose poking me from behind. I turned and saw Sparky going through all the grocery bags that I had just carried in. When he couldn't find what he was looking for, he just stared at me. At that time I had no idea what he wanted either, so I showed him all the contents of my bags and let him pick. Nope, that wasn't it. He continued to roam through the house, nose high in the air. I broke out in laughter when he suddenly started to lick the air. What a hilarious sight: it was a fast lick, almost frantic, while walking through the house, desperately trying to pick up where the scent was coming from. It finally dawned on me that those candles were the cause of this and that he was trying to lick up the vanilla.

I always wondered whether my fuzzball was the only one reacting to scented candles like that. Clearly, I had a big foodie on my hand ... he was able to pick up any food scent from ten miles away. He could be in deep slumber, at the other end of the house, when I would try to open the fridge and get myself a little something. By the time I'd close the fridge door, he'd be behind me, cornering me with those big brown eyes, looking as if he hadn't had a decent meal in over a week ... I love those memories. And I loved that look. What a big mooch.

Mommy misses you, puppyface.

One Month

My Sweetheart:

Today, it's been one month since you've left my side, and I still miss you so much that it hurts when I think about you. I've been doing good and I've been crying less, but it doesn't take away from the pain that I feel every day when I look at your empty little bed. My eyes are no longer so puffy, but my heart still breaks. I wonder every day, whether you are okay, or whether you miss your mommy? I wonder whether you are upset that I still grieve so much, but then I feel you're doing the same up there, somewhere. I wish we could have had many more years together. You leaving me, was never the plan... I wish I could hold you one last time. I would love to bury my face in your fur, and hold your sweet, little cheeks, and stroke your soft ears. You are my other half. You are part of me and I haven't been the same since you left.

I miss you honey. I miss you so, so much.


Love, Mom.

A little Reprieve

I've survived my first day puppysitting a little unruly Boston Terrier ... and oh my, this little rascal is nothing like Sparks, which is probably a good thing. Not only must he be the most hyper dog I've ever encountered, he's also never heard the word NO, I'm pretty sure of that. But he's cute as a button, so that makes up for all his bullying.

It's been good getting out and doing things with Charlie, the BT. I'm staying at my friends nice apartment, close to the beach, and we've already established a little routine. Most of the time I'm just plain busy chasing him, or being chased by him. Hardly ever do I get time to reflect on how different he is. There was a moment earlier, when I just thought how nice it would be to have a mellow Sparks by my side, walking without a leash, eager to please. I looked at Charlie and he gave a little sneeze, as if he was disapproving my thoughts. I suddenly had to think about how funny Sparky sounded when he sneezed. It usually was loud and intense, and it always made me laugh, especially since his whole body would shake in the aftermath. I would always exclaim "Gesundheit, my sweet!" and Sparky would look at me, almost with a little smile. I realized that moment that I would never have the chance to say that again, at least not to my sweetheart. It took a lot for me not to start crying right at the beach, but I managed, because Charlie quickly pulled me out of my thoughts. I think the trick lies in not thinking about how it would 'never' happen again, but just to think about, "okay, it's not happening today" ... It goes right alongside the overused phrase of "one day at a time" but it's true. If I think ahead, and look at the tremendous loss and what changes are happening (most of them I don't like) then nothing good will come of it. It just throws me deeper into my despair. So I will try and stay in the moment. It's still tough to think about how a life like Sparky's can be over so quickly, just gone. It's seems weird that there is nothing else? That's why I can't quite believe it sometimes ... Anyway, I'm pretty sure Sparky would have gone crazy around Charlie, hah. Sparkers was a lover, but little dogs would make him nervous. It was always cute how he'd try to gingerly step away from dogs like Charlie.

You know, what I really like about this puppy sitting gig is the puppy smell. Charlie has this doggy scent that I've missed so much. Of course it's nothing like Sparky's, but it's similar and it's comforting ... Speaking of which, that little spot in front of the TV where carpet meets tiles, where the boy used to lie, it still smells like him. I don't think I'll ever be able to vacuum there ...

And since we've already talked about weird topics (or at least insinuated), such as "there must be more than just death" ... I'm starting to think that maybe stuff 'is' going on ... There's this one particular song that came on the radio one day, in Sparky's final days, and I remember thinking about how it kinda fit us, how it was sad, but how it somehow felt right ... it wasn't an exact match, and it certainly wasn't about a human and a canine, but it was 'us'. Anyway, this same song has been coming on the radio whenever I am in my car ... I tend to change the channel right to it every day, at least twice ... I tend to think that my little angel is giving me a sign ... Yes, the song is sad, and I want to sob when I hear it, but it's also 'us' and I feel it connected us then, and it still connects us now ... and that's all I want these days.

Have a good weekend everyone.

Hugs from Sparky's Mom.

Puppysitting and other Things

Tomorrow my puppysitting gig will start. I'll be keeping company to a 6 month old Boston Terrier. I'm really looking forward to it, but it's also pretty scary. I'm afraid that spending so much time with another dog might backfire on me emotionally, but then I can't really say that I am necessarily stable at the moment. Things change a lot. What used to be easy before, such as watching old Sparky-Videos or looking at his pictures, has become extremely difficult. The time that I would spend during the day not thinking about my boy, has been replaced with that dreaded feeling of emptiness. It used to be easy to be in denial, but it really is not anymore. It's almost as if reality gave me an initial break with my emotional pain, but it's now doubling up for sure. It's just so hard. I don't want to sound like a broken record, and eventually I want to turn this blog into something useful for other dog parents, but right now I can do nothing but cry about him, and about our time together.

My head's not right. I've noticed that. I don't know why suddenly I feel I made many mistakes. I keep thinking about the few times that I had to discipline my little boy, and I'm riddled with guilt. I think about those times that I had to work so much, and my heart sinks. I feel so much guilt. I wish I could have given him more, and I wish 2 years ago, when we first found out about a tumor in his lung, that I would have had unlimited access to cash. I don't know whether it would have helped, but I wish things would have been different. I just feel like I haven't done enough. God, I still miss him so much.

Anyway, I have to keep my head above water. I'm going to try to enjoy my 3 days with Charlie, the Boston Terrorist. I'm pretty sure he'll keep me on my toes. He is a spoiled little bugger, but I think that's exactly what I need right now.

Moving Along

It's been two weeks, one day, and 6 hours since my sweetheart left. I still don't quite know how I am feeling, or whether I am dealing with things appropriately. I'm still confused. And I still have that huge hole left in my heart.

But I do notice some improvement. Since bringing his ashes home, I am feeling more at peace. Having him here has given me some closure. Or maybe it's because I feel more connected than before, while he was gone... I know it sounds ridiculous, and I never was a big believer myself, but I do feel his presence sometimes. Not very clearly, but little things happen once in a while, that make me smile, that suddenly remind me of him. For example, I have talked about fur popping up where I least expect it. And today, I was walking in my office building and suddenly I could smell him so strongly that it made me stop dead in my tracks and look up and all around to locate the cause of the scent. It was strange, but I loved it, and it made me smile.

I need to take time to really feel my loss at the moment. The easy way out would be to go and get a new dog. But of course there could never be a replacement. I certainly have looked already. Not so much because I thought I could replace him, but rather because I wanted the distraction, just a little break from the emptiness. But I know that deep down I am not ready.

Anyway, I am dealing with things, and they have gotten a little easier. I understand what was happening in his last month. I understand that it was his time to go and that he gave me everything he could, including bonus time. I know that he only stuck around because of me, and a little part of me feels guilty for having wanted him to continue to hang on. The only doubt I have is whether he really knew how much he meant to me; whether he really felt just how important he was to me. I hope he did. He never was just a pet. We were team-mates, partners in crime, soulmates. There are no words that could describe the love I had for my little boy... . He was everything in my life. I wish I could tell him just one more time how much I loved him.

Home

I finally was able to go and get his ashes. Since I got the call last Monday I could do nothing but think about it. People told me to wait if I wasn't ready. I know I wasn't quite ready yet, but to leave him there was even worse. I was hoping it would give me closure.

I left work early because I've officially entered the anger stage of grief. I caught myself getting snippy with the receptionist, and that wasn't a good sign. My boss was, as always, fully supportive of me. So I drove straight to the vet. On my way there I was reminded of that last drive we took together and it brought tears to my eyes. I felt my hand reaching down next to me, where he had sat on his very last day and so many times before.

When I arrived at the vet, I assumed I would be able to at least tell them why I was there, but I couldn't even do that. It was just a tough task to do, but we figured it out. He's in a light wooden box now. It's heavy, much heavier than I anticipated, but then I never had anyone cremated before. Still, it was good to have him back with me.

On the way home I placed 'him' where he sat that very last day, right next to my lap. My hand was draped over the wooden box, just like I had it draped over his head 9 days ago. I did feel a little bit relief having him by my side, even if he was in a different form.

I found a nice spot right where he used to lie in front of the TV. I placed a couple pictures there and a vase of white roses. The roses where given to me yesterday. I had arrived in class and on my table, these beautiful roses were left for me. They were sent to me by one of my previous professors, because she had found out through the grapevine that my Sparky had passed, and that he had been an amazing companion and my little souldog. I have talked to this professor maybe once in two years. It was such a beautiful gesture and while it brought quite a bit of happiness that moment, it also brought sorrow because I would have loved to share this moment with Sparky. It made me so proud to be his mom. He was such a wonderful dog, such a lover, and everyone he's ever met, he's touched so deeply in their heart.

I miss you sweetheart!

Bringing Him Home

I haven't been doing so good today, mainly because even though the weekend seemed okay, inside I was still hurting, but pushing it away and not really dealing with it. I even went so far to look at black retriever puppies online, hoping I would see one that would remind me of my love. I felt guilty after I was done. And it doesn't help that my longtime BF and I are on break, and he's been sticking to the 'break'-part of it. Even though I was the one that initiated it... I was hoping for a little more support, but he claims to be having a difficult time with this forced space ... So yeah, it's been difficult.

But regardless, I plug along. I just feel I have a permanent frown on my face right now. Maybe not a frown, but I'm pretty sure the sadness is engraved across my face. And just to make it worse, the vet called today. I saw the number and wasn't sure whether I wanted to pick up. They had send a little sympathy card, but I didn't want to talk now too. Anyway, the girl on the other end of the line told me in a sweet voice: "Mareike, we received Sparky's ashes today" ... and the floodgates opened for me. I couldn't even say Thank You, I just hung up. I think she heard me sob, because she never called back to make sure I understood her correctly.

So that's where we're at now. I'm dreading having to pick up his ashes, because I know it will make it even more real. I've been working so hard to not think about those last few days or his death. For some reason he's been living inside my head ... doing just fine. Now I have to bring home his remains... I hope that it will give me some closure, but probably not. I know that time will heal all wounds, but this one, I'm not so sure yet. I truly, deep down in my heart, believe that with his passing I have lost my purpose. I was so happy being "Mom", doing things for him, bringing presents for him, getting food for him, cooking, cleaning, playing, walking ... and in return getting unconditional love. I feel completely misplaced without him...

His Spot

I wanted to post a pic of his spot in front of the TV - the one I have been talking about. It baffles me how clearly his outline is imprinted on those tiles. The day after his death, I was moving the carpet a little and I noticed that there was a pale spot inside the darker spot. When I took a closer look, I realized it looks like a little paw ... It made me very happy.

Day 4

It's been another tough couple of days, but maybe today will be different. I set my goal not to cry today, but I think I already broke it while in the car, driving to work. It's going to be a beautiful day out today, and my initial reaction was "BEACH". But then I realized that a certain someone won't be joining me, and that I would be seeing lots and lots of pooches and it would most likely bring back some memories and for now I am trying to tug those away.

Friends and acquaintances have been so wonderful over the last 4 days. Dogbook on Facebook, where Sparky had made a gazillion friends, has proved to be an invaluable tool for me to stay mellow and mourn appropriately. I am grateful that somehow that little application which was officially Sparky's very own homepage, enabled me to meet other dog people who love their dogs as much as I do, and who understand what I am going through. Thank you for that.

The other day I went to the post office, only to have a notice in my box that there was a package waiting for me. When I picked it up, it contained Sparky's last injections of Adequan. A few hours later the holistic vet, who was apparently kept out of the loop, called to inquire about Sparky's health.... It's been tough. It's been real tough.

But there've also been some comforting experiences. Friends have been offering to actually loan their dogs to me, from Labs to Bostons to Pugs. Some of them don't even mind if I keep them for a day or two. I'm pretty sure that next week I will start to take them up on their offer. I think I need a little doggy breath in my life. I also found some old pictures of Sparky, and posted those online for friends and family to see. While I was doing that I sat in his spot and was actually able to smell him. How comforting. Also, that brown spot on my tiles in front of the TV has become my friend. I acknowledge it every morning and evening, and sometimes it feels like he's still there.

I think I will remove his water dish this weekend. My good friend Liz had brought me a beautiful plant on Monday, after Sparky had passed, and I think I will put it in that place instead. Another friend had suggested that I could make a pillow out of his bed, and I think I will. It won't be pretty, but who cares. It will hold so much meaning for me. And no, I am not washing the bed first ... I want to keep whatever smell and fur that's in there in it's place.

Last night I was sitting in class, and while I was thinking about my little fella, something made me look down to my chest and there it was, a big black hair, just sitting there, saying 'hi'. It brought a smile to my face because lately, there've been hairs popping up whereever and while normally I wouldn't react to it, now it seems like my little honey is saying "hello". I love that.

So yeah, things are still difficult, and I certainly could cry at the drop of a hat, but things are also slowly, very slowly, moving along.

Day 2

I have this need to apologize to everyone for everything I feel right now. I think people around me don't understand me, except probably those of you who come here to read this blog. I wonder if you think that I am just pathetic or insane? Society doesn't let us grieve like we grieve for humans. Pet loss has to be done in silence, and alone. I was at the store earlier and was looking at herbal medicines to see if there was something for heartache. I never believed any of that holistic stuff, but Sparky had given me a tiny glimmer of hope. Too bad that his disease had progressed so far that none of the medicines were able to grant him a fair fight ... So I stood at the counter and the lovely clerk asked me if I needed help. I was almost immediately fighting with my tears and asked her whether she had something to mellow me out - that I had lost a family member. I was afraid to say 'my sweet dog' ... and now I feel ashamed.

Anyway, things have been so tough since Monday. I can't get myself to take his water dish away, and I can't move his bed because it would mean that I would have to throw it out - I have no room to store it. I don't want to remove these things because I don't want to disrespect the bond we shared ... it's almost like wanting to keep the 'door open' ... I miss him so much. I'm afraid that his smell is leaving my house, I'm afraid that I will forget. I feel guilty when I smile occasionally because I feel it's not right ... I would give anything if I could get a little sign from him. I want what other people have experienced, and even if it's not true, or it was their imagination ... I still want that. I haven't even dreamed about him yet ... I miss him so so much. I looked at old videos last night, of how things used to be between us and I saw his change, but it still broke my heart. I miss so many things about him, it just keeps hurting.

I have less to do today, which isn't good. I get home around 4 and have nothing to do but sit there and stare... I know I could choose to do things, but I don't want to ... I'm exhausted and tired and I don't feel like trying to stuff my days so full that I don't have time to feel anything. I have lost everything the day I lost him - nothing matters anymore. I wish he would give me a sign ...

Our Last Journey Together

I don't know where to begin, except I let my soulmate go.

I had a lot of doubts yesterday. I felt guilt. I wasn't sure if this is what he wanted, because I was confused by his last rally to be perky and cute with me. But deep down I knew - my heart knew - it was time. My friend had offered to go with us, but thankfully he was considerate and kept his distance. He knew that Sparky was a Momma's Boy. He knew that he would want me all to himself, and anything different would be cause for 'concern'.

I had fed him another hefty dose of deli meats before we left, placed him in the car on the passenger seat beside me, with his paws draped over my legs. The entire way to the vet, I was able to pet him and talk to him. My friend decided to take his own car, giving us even more space. I had read somewhere to stay as calm as possible, to not let your emotions run wild, to not upset your fur child in any way before "it" was done. It was difficult, but I told him how much I loved him, how proud I was of him, how much joy he gave me, how he was the best puppy there ever was and ever will be, and how it was time for him to return to puppyhood, and to have a good ol' time at the Rainbow Bridge. I think he was listening to me.

When we arrived at the vet, I decided to keep him outside on a juicy patch of green grass. He always loved grass and he loved to rub his face and whole body across it. This time he kept circling for a good 5 minutes before sitting down and watching other dogs go by. It must have been a lab convention somewhere because we saw countless labs, right and left. Sparky was a big lab lover, probably because of his heritage. But this time I could tell that he had grown tired. Even though he kept an eye on everything, it wasn't the usual excitement I was used to. Another sign that things were not right, that my boy was tired. Suddenly the door to the vet opened and an older gentleman with a black female lab came out. Sparky showed immediate interest, rose, ears half-way perked, and his tail wagging as much as he could in his position. It was wonderful to see him one last time; he saw something that made him happy. It was almost as if he was trying to show off; as if he had forgotten what brought us there. It was bitter-sweet.

Soon thereafter the vet tech arrived with the first shot in hand. We had decided to give him the sedative out on the grass to help him relax, and we would later move him inside to a room to give the second shot to stop his heart. I watched my baby-boy get sleepy and offered my hand to rest his face in. The entire time, 20 minutes, I kept repeating how much he meant to me, how this was the right thing, how I would be okay, and how I would insist on him checking in with me every week, if not every day. My heart was breaking into a million pieces but I made it without crying. I didn't want to worry him in any way.

Even though it had been 20 minutes, I felt the lab techs came back too soon to put him on a gurney and carry him in. When they had turned his back to me, he immediately rose up in high alert, looking for me... I'll never forget. We settled in a room, where they gave me another 10 minutes to talk with him, to pet him, to explain to him how everything will be alright, and to make absolutely sure that he had been the best dog to ever walk this Earth.

The vet arrived and explained the procedure to me. She said she would shave his leg a little, find a vein, and once the injection was completed, he would be gone within seconds. I asked her to tell me when, so I could make doubly sure that he would get one last final squeeze from me. The entire time I remained on eye level with him, and whenever he opened his eyes, he would see my smiling face, no matter how hard I wanted to cry.

In true Sparky-fashion, he refused to make things easy. The vet told me how his vein was "uncooperative", and how she couldn't believe she had such a hard time. I had to laugh a little, because it was so Sparky. He had many health scares in his lifetime, and he should have died quite a few times before, but he always insisted on fighting the fight, on sticking around. Eventually she found the vein: "It's time". I held his paw, stroked his face, whispered to him how much I loved him, kissed his face and that was it. Over. So quick. But it was peaceful and just what we needed. When she listened for a heartbeat and shook her head, I fell apart... gone. I sobbed, like I have sobbed so many times in the last few days. I was overwhelmed by the immediate emptiness. Years and years of absolute devotion to this little guy - gone. My life's purpose - gone. He meant the entire world to me. He came before everything else. Nothing was ever done without him on the forefront of my mind.

The vet was in tears as well. Sparky had been such a lover, such a ladies' man; every woman, human or canine, always fell for him. His vet was no exception. I didn't want to leave him there. It felt wrong to walk out of there with my companion left behind. But I somehow got the courage and walked away.

I didn't really cry when I got home. I felt a strange comfort when I was standing in my living room. I looked over to his favorite spot in front of the TV. Years of him lounging there have discolored the tile, and I always refused to clean with chemicals there because I knew my baby slept there. Now I have a brown spot in the shape of a sleeping dog there ... Sometimes it feels comforting, sometimes it causes heartbreak.

I cried when I came home from dinner. It was 8 pm and I felt lonely, and empty. Even though I had prepared myself and actually told myself when I walked up to my house, that Sparky was not going to be there, my initial reaction was to look for him when the door swung open. I spent the rest of the night crying for my little boy and kneeling in front of the TV, where carpet meets the tiles, trying to be comforted by his scent that still lingers there ... I miss him so much.

Sleep Tight, Sweet Boy.

Today, at 4:30 pm, my sweet little boy, Sparky, left my side to go on to Rainbow Bridge. I will forever love him and cherish his memory, and I will miss him so very, very much.

Sweet dreams, Puppyface.

Broken

I'm watching the last 2 hours tick by slowly. It still feels surreal to me at times, like I don't fully comprehend the tidal wave of heart break und sorrow that is about to unravel over me. It didn't make it easier that Sparky perked up last night. For about an hour he was his old self, and then he passed out snoring in front of the TV. My first instinct was "Improvement!!!!!" but then reality set in: there is no improvement with this terminal disease. Throughout the night he slept restlessly. He would wake every hour, almost exactly to the minute. He was always good with time. I used to call him my canine alarm clock, because he would wake me every morning at exactly 8:11 am ... until he got sick.

Today he refused the chicken too. I tried other things, but no, nothing appealed to him. I dug out some more lunch meat and fed him sliced turkey and ham, a big hit! Surprisingly, he even refused his cookies. Another big sign that things were coming to an end. I sat on the floor sobbing when suddenly he perked up, got off the floor all by himself, and came over to nudge me and wag his tail. I was elated, I was excited and I cancelled the appointment. I ended up going to work, thinking that he must be well. But within 2 hours I had a really bad feeling of doom in my stomach and I went home. When I got here, he was asleep, didn't hear me, and when he finally did, he didn't rise. I helped him up and we went outside, very briefly. He peed, stumbled, and sat down in it. At that moment I saw my desperation, my drive to find 'anything' that would make me put this off. And again I needed to remind myself that this disease is not curable, that he will die, and probably very soon, within days. One of my friends said "What if his tail wag wasn't a "I wanna live", but instead a "It's okay mom, don't worry, it's time". I sobbed. He was right. Another friend asked me whether I really wanted to wait till the last minute to do this, when he was seriously suffering. Again, I sobbed. Of course not. I called to reschedule to 4:15 pm.

So I'm sitting here, still crying, with Sparky across the room from me, in front of the door, his favorite spot since getting sick. He's sleeping and thank god for his near-deafness, he can't hear me cry. I'm torn. I don't know whether I am doing the right thing. But everything taken together and looked at objectively shows me that he has no good days left. He's still a bit perky, and I doubt he has any idea what's about to happen, but I hope he will be okay with it.

There's a lovely woman here on Blogger. She reads Sparky's Blog because she has her own story of losing her canine soulmate. In her "About Me" section she wrote one word: BROKEN. And that is me now. I feel I'm stumbling on the rim of a really dark pit, and when Sparky leaves my side, I will fall. He has been my rock for the last 7 years, 1 month, and 3 days. I'm gonna miss my boy so much. No one has held my heart so intensely as he has. I am so scared.

Our Last Day

It's for the best. Keeping him longer would be cruel. I know that he's trying so hard to hang in there for me. When I was sobbing earlier, he suddenly bounced up, acting like nothing was wrong, and I knew exactly that he was doing it for me... I've spent hours laying next to him, talking to him, trying not to cry but my tears always win. I wish he wouldn't see me like that. I am so afraid.

I keep trying to look at it as giving him one last gift, and less of how his death will rip my heart out. I promised him I'd do the right thing, and so it will be done. Tomorrow. At 3:00 pm. I was hoping the vet could come by my place, but it looks like I'll have to take him in instead. I'm going to be there all the way till the end, holding his paw, kissing his ears and his face.

I went to the grocery store to get some deli meats and cheeses, some of his favorite chewy treats, some vanilla yogurt and some vanilla ice cream. I want to spoil him one last time.

I'm not sure if he knows. But I'm pretty sure he knows something is wrong with his mommy, I wish I didn't have to worry him.

I'm so afraid of tomorrow. I keep wavering between It's Time and Not Yet. But it all comes down to the same thing: He's not getting better, he's only getting worse. Letting him go with dignity is so important.

I wish I could change things. I wish I'd been more diligent in trying to find this cancer. I wish I'd never fed him commercial food. I wish we had more time together. I wish I could go with him ...

I Can't Imagine

I've been talking to Sparky all day today. We've hung out more than ever and I've been trying to let him know that it's okay. It's okay to let go now. I can't forget what the vet said: "He's hanging in there for you. He shouldn't have made this long". I sobbed most of the day. I tried not to let him see me like this, but how am I supposed to do this in private. He's been sitting all day by the front door, looking out, checking the neighborhood. It pains me to think about what will be next. I've made a plan. I had to. The way he's looking at me ... he's looking to me for guidance, to make a decision, to make it okay for him to pass.

If he's not remarkably better by Monday, I will call his vet and arrange that we 'do this' Tuesday morning. I know I have to. I owe him this.

I can't imagine life without my little boy. I can't imagine coming home and not seeing my little fuzzball greet me at the door. I can't image not being able to bury my face in his fur. I can't imagine not being covered in black dog hair on a daily basis. I can't imagine seeing his goofy grin when he does something he knows he's not supposed to. I can't imagine not kissing him good night every night. I can't imagine not seeing his tail wag like a propeller when I get home from work. I can't imagine not going on our daily walks. I can't imagine not making his meals in the morning and evening. I can't imagine not having his stinky feet in my face. I can't imagine not taking him with me when I go to the beach. I can't imagine not hearing his gentle snore at night. Most of all, I can't imagine not being loved by him.

I just can't imagine.