We all are. The Mutt waited for him for two days, ears perked up – listening to every sound outside the door, but has finally come inside. Maybe I imagine it, but she seems to miss him too.
She is 16 and can’t smell or see clearly but she had barked at the Vet who came to check Gabbar, standing protectively beside him. Unlike the cat, she did not seem to sense that he would no longer shiver at the merest mention of the Vet.
I am learning that no matter how it happens, loss just hurts. Guilt is a part of this sadness, even when we were prepared and even when he left the way one would have wished for him to go. There are no regrets, and still it hurts that he is not there, wagging his tail politely, even in sleep, even at the softest and most boringly repetitive declarations of love for him.
These pictures were taken just a month before he died.