realreally

No one rushes to greet me when I come home. Or stares out the window when I leave. She’s dead. I buried her sweet furry body myself. Her heart was stopped at 3 years and some months. She was ornery and never did what she was told, but she always brought her best. Energy. Simple joy. Love of play and just a level of trust that the world was good. She was my favorite. Her soft fur in my hands always reminded me that she was present with me. Warm body turning cold as I roll a blanket over her stilling body. No more whimpers from a broken pup. Just a house that’s too big and a Doonis-shaped hole in me. She is gone now and I miss her each moment of the day. The games of hide and seek. The sweet big brown eyes hiding mischief. The 9 o’clock crazy time. Her patient waiting outside my bedroom door. I miss you Doon.