Today is her birthday. She would have been 11 years old, a mere 77 in dog years. I’m wandering around in my life trying to recover from losing her. It’s like losing a child. I go through the motions but the spark is lost. Her babies are lost without her too.
When we played fetch in the water, it was always Maggie that ran to get it and her boys followed after her. On Saturday, the day after she died, we took the boys into the woods and hung out by Barclay creek. I tried to throw a stick in for them to go get but they forgot how to fetch. They were waiting to follow her out into the water but she wasn’t there to follow. Eventually they started fetching it, but there was an emptiness to the ritual…something or someone was missing.
I don’t know how long it will be before I don’t cry when I think about her, or before I stop looking for her when I get home. In my heart I know that death of the body isn’t the end. But in my selfishness, I cry for missing her. For missing her soft curly fur, her cute little girl nose, the mickey mouse spot on her shoulder, the way she kneaded her toys when we sat together at home and the way she still tried to protect her puppies when other dogs came around.
I miss you so much baby girl, I don’t know how I will survive this pain of losing you.
Happy birthday to you wherever you are in heaven.
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