Yesterday was a tough day, but today is even tougher.
After 15 years of love and companionship, we said goodbye to Piper, our furry little family member. Piper was more than a dog. She was a loyal, loopy, smart, friendly, happy, ball of love.
What Piper was not:
a guard dog
she barked to let her humans know strangers were approaching but then wagged her tail to welcome her new friends to our home, not to scare them away. She once yawned as a lizard ran through an open window, skittered across her paws and then ran out the back door.
when Piper left a room, her footsteps echoed throughout the hardwood floors around the house. In her day, Piper's clatter drowned out phone calls, movies, video games, music, and podcasts.
even though we teased her for being dum-dum at times, she was a smart little thing. Yeah, her footsteps rang throughout the house. Unless she was up to something, and then she was as quiet as a ninja. Here are things Piper loved to destroy: unattended trash cans, paper towels, toilet paper, empty candy wrappers, tissues, and once, an entire Easter basket.
oh boy, did Piper love to follow us wherever we went. Even if where we ended up was only a few feet from where we started. Up until the very end, all she wanted was to be close to us. Even when her legs couldn't carry her any longer.
just a dog
of course, she was a dog, but she was never ONLY a dog. She was an alarm clock, a friend, a companion, a therapist, a personal trainer, a pillow, a perfect little foot warmer, and a happy little squirrel watcher.
How long does it take to get over the loss of unconditional love? I don't know. But I'll put one foot in front of the other and breathe in and breathe out, and remember when she was my dog. Who just so happened to be a very, very Good Dog.
This post is part of a Blogging A To Z series where I write a new, personal story almost every day (except Sundays). The theme is the hidden messages: the language of flowers.