This week we lost our beloved Shepherd, Roxi, at age 12.  I wrote this for her.

There is a hole in the Universe where you used to be.

I go through my day tripping over the impressions you left in my routine.

Like a photograph negative I see the outline of you.

But it is not you.

At the door.

Under the coffee table.

At my feet under my desk.

I get out of bed – late because you didn’t make me get up.

I wander aimlessly in the morning thinking there is something I’m supposed to be doing.

You would have told me.

You knew our every move.  Time to go out.  Time to eat.  Time for pop tart.

We were so predictable.  So trainable.

I know with time the tide will wash over your footprints.

Soon the movement of the Universe will fill in those holes.

Too soon routines without you will feel normal.

But I’m not ready to let you go.

I leave your dish with three bits of kibble from that Tuesday morning where you left it.

I leave your nose prints on the windows unwashed.

The dog hair un-vacuumed.

We want you back home.

But not like this, in a metal box with the inscription “Until we meet again at the Rainbow Bridge”.

by Sharon Foley