Change

Yesterday we put Mike, our collie mix, to sleep.  I knew that I loved him I just didn't know how much I would miss him. I woke up this morning thinking that I heard him whimper downstairs, that was his cue to let me know (usually at 4 or 5 am) that he had to go out. Of course it wasn't him so I resisted the urge to go check on him but it was hard not to run downstairs to help him up and out the door.

What a sweet dog, he was my shadow when we took walks and he liked to lay right next to my chair when I was at the computer and occasionally  bump my elbow when I was typing. He was almost 15 years old and I like to think he had a good life with us. We got him when he was about 6 or 7 weeks old and he had that puppy intensity (which eventually goes away) and that collie intensity (which never goes away). He loved us, all he wanted to do was to be with us. The day before he died, he could hardly get up by himself, I was taking Jackie (hound mix) to the dog park and he was struggling to get up so he could go with us.

He was fun to be with, loved sticks, balls, water, really anything that involved play. You could throw a ball for hours and he would chase it and bring it back over and over.  There is an event here in Eau Claire at the Fairfax Pool, a dog swim, and two years ago we went for the first time and Mike never left the water in two hours. It was like he couldn't believe there were that many balls in the world. Jackie, of course, went looking for food but that's another story.

Jackie is a little subdued, I wish I could get inside her head and tell her what's going on. I think she's knows Mike is gone, like not here, but death? I know death is final but like Temple Grandin from the movie about her life when she asks "Where do they go?".  I wish I knew.