100 Days of Writing – Day Seven

Remember a loved one…

Think about someone you have known who has died. What conversation would have with them if you could?

Abby – I want you to know how much you meant to me in the twelve years we were together – and how very much I’ve missed you in the month-and-a-half you’ve been gone.

I remember the day I picked you out at the animal shelter. I had seen your picture and description online and already knew I wanted you for my own. I also remember they said that you weren’t there, but I saw you sitting in the corner and knew you were the one I had come to get.

You were the best of companions and I never had to worry about having to have a home security system with you around. But even though you were always protective, you were one of the most loving and gentle beings I’ve ever known.

I always knew you would be there to greet me when I got home from work, even if I could tell you had to jump off my bed and come to the door. I still sometimes think you’ll come around the corner when I go to the house we lived in together and have to remind myself that’s not going to be.

Yes, there were those times you’d test my patience. I’d come to the conclusion if you had gotten loose and were running around the neighborhood, it was my place just to wait until you got tired and showed up at the back door.

One of your claims to fame was surviving not just one, but two times of getting hit by cars. I can still see your scars on pictures I have of you and know that without a doubt you were one lucky girl (Actually I was the luckiest of all).

I remember when the neighbor’s dog had been hit by a car and run off into hiding. We humans couldn’t find out where she had gone, but you were able to sense where she was hiding and sat there until we noticed you there with you. On that day you were the angel, a special kind of hero.

I was quite amazed that you were able to adjust to being in a new environment just before you died. You had learned how to use the doggy door, gotten along with your new sisters, and had learned not to be so anxious around strangers. Little did we know how short your stay would be.

As your last hurrah on the day before you died, you caught a bird in the backyard and proudly paraded it around for all to see. You certainly didn’t want to let anyone take it from you, but finally did. You always loved to hunt squirrels and rabbits and perhaps fitting you got a bird on the day before you got your wings.

The news of your terminal cancer was not easy to receive. The veterinarian said the end would be soon, perhaps within a week. It was far too quick for me to fully comprehend that the end would be so near.

That Wednesday morning will forever be etched in my mind. I had taken the day off work and I think you had waited for that time to let us know that it was your time to depart. The decision was not an easy one to make, but I knew it was best for you to end the pain and suffering you had been experiencing. The vet concurred.

I’m sure you understood how difficult it was for me to make that choice as I lay on the floor beside you on the examining room floor. You had fought so hard and never gave up until those last few hours. But your time on this earth, our time together had come to a close.

Until we meet again my good and trusted friend, my Abby.

Published by David Lee Moser

I am a sixty-three year old semi-retired elementary science teacher.

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