It’s been a few weeks now and I swear to you, I see my dog all the time. When I’m working in the kitchen, he’s there on the corner of my eye, waiting for me to let him in through the back door. I quickly look through the glass and he’s not there. But his memory lingers.
As I tidy up around the sink, I anticipate feeling his wet nose nudging my back, my thighs, or even lick my hands if they’re down on my side. It doesn’t come. But I can remember the feeling almost like it’s there.
I can almost hear his footsteps as his paws gently pad through the stone floors in the kitchen to the wood in the hallway to the family room. The sound does not come. But I remember how the routine went.
Sometimes, I still smell his scent, especially where he lay down most of the time. There is this spot in the hallway that leads to the kitchen and the family room. It’s also a vantage point where he could see people as they came out of their rooms to go to the kitchen. He always liked to sit there as he waited for all of us to get ready for the day.
Today, I finally completed the collage of photos I had collected and arranged them on the frame I had purchased two weeks ago. We chose photos of Luke with the family, as a puppy held by Lara or by Louie, walking on the neighborhood with us. He was such a handsome dog. And so loving and sweet. We will hang it next to his favorite spot.
It’s been almost two months now since his passing. I still miss him. Louie stopped opening the back door at night, out of habit. He’s also not waking up too early in anticipation of Luke wanting to be let out. We’re not rushing home from work or from being out and about anymore.
Our routines are changing. First there was no child to come home to or attend to all the time anymore. Now, there’s no dog to come home to or to attend to all the time anymore.