Since there have been several postings lately about animals mourning the
loss of another animal friend, I wanted to post this, which I wrote after
my little Spaz crossed the Rainbow Bridge.  My dog is a 95 pound, 11 year
old Golden Retriever.
 
The big aging dog sat at the top of the stairs, leaning against the wall
with his head bowed in sadness.  His eyes were sad, expressionless, and
dark.  He appeared ready to shed tears of despair, if dogs could only cry.
He was showing, in his quietness, his sorrow at his discovery.  For most of
the preceeding night, the dog had searched each room in the house,
sniffing, looking, seeking the answer to his question.  Now, at this early
morning hour, as light began to peer through the drawn shades, he had
instinctively realized that his little friend was gone.  With innate
knowledge, he knew he would never see his housemate of the past 4 1/2 years
again.  Her towels were gone.  Her cage was gone.  Her toys were gone.  But
her scent lingered.  That was what he had been following all through the
night, trying in vain to find his little ferret friend.  His little friend
who weighed only 1 1/2 pounds, against his 95 pounds.  His little friend
who liked to chase him and wrap herself around his rear leg and hang on for
the ride.  His little friend who got raisin and grape treats whenever she
wanted, while the big dog sat patiently and awaited his turn.  His little
friend who would scoot around the house and hide under the chairs and who
would climb into any paper or plastic bag on the floor.  Somehow, he knew
she was gone.  And now he was alone.  And sad.
 
Thanks for reading this.
[Posted in FML issue 1302]