It’s those little things that get you. like the bag of treats you forgot to toss/donate. That one article of clothing that you would roll and roll and could never get all the fur off, no matter how hard you tried. Not having to wake up early, or rush home. That new freedom, you don’t want. How you regret not taking her collar. The empty spot on the floor where her bed used to be. These things still sting.
Where is she? Is she happy? Has all the knowledge of the universe been bestowed on her? Has she ceased to exist? Is she someone’s new baby, with a concerning obsession for chewing shoes? These questions sometimes keep you from sleeping, or occur randomly throughout the day, like when you’re making a sandwich.
When will you be able to talk about her without crying? When will you make it through the list of neighbours asking where she is? That yes, 15 was old for a big dog, yes she lived a good long life, yes it’s good she didn’t suffer.
One day you’ll be able to laugh at all the stupid things she used to do. How she swiped and ate an entire Christmas dinner off the counter, while you were outside saying goodbye to your family. How she kept you up all night because it gave her explosive diarrhea. That time she chewed apart every single pair of shoes you owned, and you had to go to the mall in January in flip flops. How she loved a water fountain on a hot day. If no one was around you’d let her go for it.
But you’ll never stop missing them.
Lobster Shorts 
😢
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