The house is so quiet.
I had no idea just how large your presence actually was. I had become so accustomed to your snoring under my desk while I worked. So used to your sprawled out body on the couch at night, making us uncomfy watching TV. Your barking at the top of the stairs until I came to carry you down.
I’m a little lost.
My entire day revolved around you. The 7am wake up call for breakfast, the stare-downs for liver snacks during the day, the begging when you wanted a walk, supper at 5pm and then the 2am bladder call, again more barking next to the bed to be carried down the stairs.
In the first few weeks I felt guilty. Guilty because I could sleep through the night. Guilty for having the bed to myself again. Guilty for being able to go out for a run and not have to worry about your anxiety levels soaring.
You had a major personality change when Annie left us. From being such a carefree happy little girl, you were alone and unsure. Your separation anxiety peaked and you never quite found your place in the world without your big sister.
Lessons from a dog called Emma nailed it.
But we bonded. And I loved our time together.
Starting my own business meant we spent the whole day together. There were so many hugs, which you hated.
You listened to all my stories. You watched me laugh. You looked away when I danced. You’re the only one who saw me cry. A lot.
Even in those last few weeks when we knew you were ready to say goodbye, you taught me to take time to feel the sun on my face. To enjoy my afternoon naps. To get excited for chicken and butternut (just the way Oumie made it for you.)
And when you finally fell asleep in my arms, you had such a beautiful peaceful look on your face. I even washed all the breakfast butternut off your beard and washed your face with a warm face cloth – you loved that too.
It’s taken me longer to say goodbye to you than when we said our goodbyes to Annie. She was strong. But you were the baby and you held all our memories of her.
Now you’re both gone.
Nothing really prepared me to say goodbye to both my girls. The house is so empty.
We talk about you often.
We still refer to you as our “little puppy.”
We miss you Emma. Thank you for the joy & love you brought into our lives. xxx