Grief

Such a little word for so many emotions. I was in kind of a fog for several days. Today I finally got up the muster to wipe the final physical reminders of my Sunshine. She left permanent paw prints on my heart and in my life and many. many muddy paw prints on my floors.... She also left smudges on the windows at nose height. I couldn't bear to clean them up until today. And it was difficult. Usually I can't stand the sight of the mess and my "un-natural fastidious" (a friend once described me as such and it has stuck) kicks in immediately to at least spot mop or window wash. This week though, looking at the paw prints of two different sized dogs made my throat tight and my body tired. I tackled the job today. While I can't say I'll miss all the mopping, I am missing that joyful crazy dog that left all those marks.

Scratch isn't showing signs of depression or being very mopey but he is lonely. He always snuggled with Sunny-girl on the futon and argued over toys (we have two of almost everything) and raced around the house, skidding to a sliding stop that usually tumbled one or both of them. He doesn't play very much with humans. He'll sometimes chase a ball or toy but doesn't return it very well. Sunny loved the game "find it" - where the human hid a toy in the house and she'd have to sit and wait until we gave the command "find it" and she'd sniff about the house until it was discovered. Scratch would bound after her but doesn't understand to play it without her.

I have been trying to take Scratch for a couple of short walks every day (with Sunshine we'd go for one walk in the early morning hours, usually before the sun rose and we still do that walk but he's so lonely I've been trying to do more) so that he has some exercise to replace his romps with Sunshine and to keep him from getting bored. Bored dogs can be very destructive, something we have thankfully never had an issue with but with 110 pound dog, I hope to never have a problem with.

Moving forward is still difficult. The back yard, Sunny's Queen-dom, still causes my breath to catch in my throat and tears sting my eyes but I am thankful that my high energy dog, so filled with life didn't seem to have suffered. She was still in her prime. I have always said I'd like to die before I'm so old I can't live the way I want to. Even in death Sunny was my dog. In the last six months she was starting to slow down a little. Be in the house a little more (our dogs don't have a doggie door but they have always had a choice to be in the house or in the yard and Sunshine nearly always preferred the yard). Nap more frequently. She would have been five in a few weeks so we thought after nearly five years of being a puppy she was settling down a little. Maybe she was aging. We'll never know. I'm thankful I didn't have to watch her diminish and make decisions about euthanizing her.

But I still miss her.

We don't own a TV which is what is the background noise of most homes. Sunshine was our background noise. She was so vocal. She'd have lengthy "conversations" with us yipping and whining when we asked "Should we just feed Scratch tonight?" *whine* "I don't know it looks like we only have enough food for one dog - we'll feed Scratch" *whine whine yip!* An exchange like this could go on for a while. About anything. Walks, food, David coming home, vacuuming, "yucks", toys and so on. She'd lecture her own body parts and anything else that made her upset. Toys, Scratch, latched doors, a delay in going out back, the squirrel that would tease her (oddly I haven't seen him since Sunny has gone).

(Top picture: "Sunshine - go check if David's home yet" - she'd race to the window that gave her a view of the drive way and give me a full report.
Bottom picture: Sunny and Scratch catch a snooze on their futon - Sunny usually had her head dangling all the way off the futon but I don't have a picture of it.)