Many of you knew my baby, Bella. She was a wonderful friend, a loving presence, a constant reminder of all that is sweet and dear in the world. My precious little dog with a big footprint.
It was with great sadness that I must share about her death. To say I am heartbroken is an understatement. I feel like I’ve been run over by a car.
There’s a tiny thump that vibrates when her feet hit the floor. I can still hear it.
There’s the feel of her spine as it nestles near my legs when we sleep. I can still feel it.
The way she gave little kisses. I can still taste them.
There’s the subtle difference in the sound of her bark between, “I want a treat,” and “I need to go out.” I know it intimately.
The whimper of, “Oh my, there’s my friend, Hank, the bulldog.”
And the ferocious bark to announce the dreaded postal truck.
There’s the comfort of her heartbeat, the warmth of her snuggles, and the depth of her gaze. I miss all of her.
I look for her sweet face as she curls up in my closet while I work.
I had to tell my grandson. Between the ages of 3 and 5 I’ve read, they don’t really get it and are known to ask about her return tomorrow. He did.
At least he knew she’d been sick and going to the doggy doctor.
I choked when I had to say it again. Bella is not coming home. Let’s make her a picture. Let’s plant a tree. Let’s wish her well in doggie heaven. Bella is flying high with the other doggie angels. She is looking over us with her undying love.
I must honor my heartbreak and be still. I owe her that. No more business as usual for now. I will never be the same. I have been changed by her love.
Some day I will smile before I cry, but today is not that day.