Oh crap, I miss you on and off throughout the day. Those three-sixties you pulled. Your happy disposition, running back and forth between three rooms when you wanted to play or go for a walk. I miss you sitting on my lap, snuggling under my neck, or lying right beside me while watching TV.

Writing this is painful. Recalling the way you looked at me, sometimes for seemingly no reason, but usually because you wanted whatever I was eating, especially if it was chips.

We would sneak-sleep together. You under the blankets, that’s how you liked it, didn’t matter how hot it was. Under the blankets. And you had to touch. Needed body contact. That was your thing, being a lap dog and all. Human connection was important to you, and though you started off scared and mean to everyone who tried to pet you, in the end you made friends quickly.

I was told you cried whenever I left the room, or left you with others in the car. I never saw that, of course, but guess what…I hated leaving you behind in all cases. Like when I traveled and couldn’t take you with me. I thought about you, worried about the care you were getting, and I missed you. And when I got a new job…I hated being away from you.

I’m thinking about how you twisted your head when I said your name, or nudged me, wanted to be petted or touched. Sometimes you forced me off my phone. A lot of times actually. It made me laugh. I had to stop playing Spider because you wanted loving.

I feel like I’m being ridiculous, finding myself waking in the middle of the night, crying like a heartbroken five-year-old. It’s those dreams, dreams you and I are walking through some lush field, then you run off bouncing through high grasses and flowers. Coming back to me, jumping straight up in the air, like you always did when you were happy. You used to push me – that is, jump behind me and push me with your two front paws which we called hands. I’m sure you only did it when you were happy and wanted to go outside. In my dreams you are pushing me all the time.

You were a happy dog. You didn’t start off that way, but you got there pretty quickly. I saved you, you saved me. You saved me from the pain of separation…my own children moving off into the world. You saved me from dwelling too far inward, and I shared a revised life because of you. I walked everyday, we had our mini-contests like see how fast I could walk before you started to gallop, and we explored. Hey, remember the trip across the U.S. and back? You handled that like a trooper, no problem for you, made friends along the way, took walks in strange lands.

Our walks were the best. I laughed when you happily trotted. That trot…and heaven help the well-behaved large dog that came into our path. Which there were many. You snarled and snipped at them, sometimes trying to take a bite at its cheek, scaring the poor creature. You were seven pounds of ferociousness.

But you were gentle with the cats and the bunny. They didn’t know what to make of you, so occasionally a cat would take a swipe at your face and you’d come running back to me, confused.

You saved me from getting too comfortable with life. You added that bit of challenge, that I didn’t think I could do – a new kind of responsibility making sure each day you were taken care of. Bathing, eating, walking, being comfortable, medicines (later), all those things I thought I was too lazy to do…I did for you.

Now there’s nothing to do for you but think upon all those funny and fun moments. The 360s, the bouncing up and down, the running full tilt from one room to the next, the nudging, the snuggling, digging like a crazy dog in the dirt, nose-to-nose touching with the bunny, the kisses, way you looked into my eyes when you wanted something, the way you pawed my hand, that head tilt.

You’re in my dreams often, but right now it’s too close to be a good thing. It hurts. But Peri, I promise, I’ll be in a better place one day and the dreams will be comforting and something to look forward to.

I still feel like a five-year-old, though this time mad at the world because animals don’t live forever. Or do they? I don’t really know. It’s curious, two mornings ago I thought I saw you sleeping on the cat’s cushion. I had to do a double-take. Was that you? Was it a dream?

Died: November 14, 2017