I Hope She Knows

A light, steady rain was falling this morning, so for my exercise I rode my stationary bike in the den. As I finished the ride, and as happens often these days, thoughts of my little old dog drifted into my mind.

At first, the memories were painful and vivid; the last days, seeing her pace through the house, nearly Scan_Pic0004 (575x622)completely void of sight, searching for me; trying to pick up the freshest scent, so she could know I was near, and lay down in the same room.

And still, occasionally, the pain of that final day assaults me. Her mind apparently lost its hold on reality and she became, in what seemed an instant, not only unable to see with eyes, or hear with ears, but lost and totally alone in a dark and soundless world she would soon leave.

When I found her she was in a closet, braying in haunting intermittent barks for me to find her and help her. When at last I did find her—it must’ve seemed like hours to her—I picked her up and sat on the bed holding her. She pressed so hard against me it felt as though she was trying to get inside me. I hope she knew she was already as deep into my heart as she could get. After a few minutes she calmed somewhat, but I knew things were not right, or good, and I couldn’t hold her in my arms the rest of her life.

These days, a bit of time having passed, it’s getting easier to push the bad thoughts into the recesses of my mind and recall the good days; days when she’d lope with apparent total abandon in front of me; me in my golf cart, and her in a world made just for dogs. A place where the ground kissed her feet as she ran, and every rock and blade of grass smelled of the heaven this earth can be when the world is right and your best friend is watching over you.

Lord knows I’ve cried an ocean of salty tears since that last day with her, but I’m getting better about focusing on the good times. I see her running to me and jumping into the seat beside me, snuggling close to my side, my arm around her, as we drive back up the hill to the house. She’ll get a long drink of water, then see where I’m at, and lay down for a nap.

I still look down sometimes, expecting her to be there looking up at me.

 

Copyright © 2013 C Mashburn

17 Comments »

  1. Susan said

    Sweet tears for a love I’ve also known and lost more than once. This was excellent and I’m happy your pain is easing too.
    ” She pressed so hard against me it felt as though she was trying to get inside me.”
    I experienced this last year with my Ollie. He had an allergic reaction and was brought to the emergency vet in seizures. I had to leave him until he was brought around but returned that same day to bring him home. When they handed him to me in a drugged stupor, he lifted his nose to my neck and pressed so hard! He couldn’t think straight yet but he knew “mama” held him and he let me know with that “hug” that the separation had been the hardest part of his ordeal.

    • Parting is definitely sweet sorrow. So hard to someone or something you love so deeply, and yet to see them suffer is more than a heart can handle.
      Thanks, Susan.

  2. Sherry Mashburn said

    I expect her to come running tome when I come home from work. I still miss her so,

  3. Hi Charles; What a sweet-sad story of man’s best friend, and he sure was a handsome little guy sitten there… Your story reminded me of my red irish setter that i had when i was around 5yr’s old.. on one easter sun morning I was out in my front yard ..and i was crying; so i told him .. I said Butch” his name” I wanted a real live easter bunny for easter.. He took off running but soon returned with a real live baby rabbit and laid it at my feet.. I have to say that , that was the best easter that I ever had.. He was such a wonderful playmate and I can very well understand your feelings of missing your friend… God Bless you and thank you for such a wonderful story… Bro Pat.. 🙂

    • Wow! That’s an awesome story, too, Bro Pat! What a dog ol’ Butch was!
      Thanks for stopping by and thanks for the kind words.

  4. I feel your pain dear Charles just remember she is waiting for you happy loping through the grass sniffing everywhere and when you get to heavens gate she will be so excited to see you and you will be covered in her wet sloppy kissses!

    • I’m looking forward to that reunion, Len! Thank you for the wonderful kind words!

  5. jelillie said

    A beautiful tribute Charles. I am sorry for your loss.

  6. Raivenne said

    TRUST, she knows!

    My dog travelled on years ago. Still, every now and then when I come home from work, I open my front door and brace myself for the attack of her daily greeting that doesn’t come. It’s really hits “home” as it were considering I no longer even live in the home she knew and all Ic an do is laugh at myself and smile in memory of her running twixt my legs as though they were some figure eight obstacle course in her ‘happy, happy, joy, joy’ dance of welcome.

    Your girl was a part of your life for a long time. Maybe she couldn’t see or hear or even smell you near the end, but when you picked her up she knew YOU. Yes, it does get better, but a piece of her is always going to be in your heart as much as you were in hers,

  7. You brought tears with this one, Charles. Our pets certainly have a way to get into our hearts. For us, since the kids are grown and gone, they are now our children…two cats and they travel with us everywhere!

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