And I Miss It

     I am not a dog person, not in the way my husband is. If we go somewhere there is a dog, Reed will automatically seek it out and pet it. I am more of a kid person, when we go somewhere there is a young child, I will automatically start trying to make eye contact and talk to him/her. But I do like dogs and cats, which is handy since we have had them for the past 35 years. Our current cat, Finn, doesn't wait for people to seek him out, he jumps in their lap and demands attention. Our remaining dog, Mykah, would rather be outside than with people most of the time. Baldr used to greet us with excited yips when we returned from a day trip, Mykah doesn't even stand up. Between eating more, un-eating more, and shedding, Baldr required a lot more maintenance than Mykah, but he wanted to be with us, and I did not realize until he died how much I need that for my own maintenance.

And I Miss It

 

When our big, Baldr dog was alive

I had to vacuum every other day

just to keep up with the tufts of fur.

The dust cup was always full

and I had to pull his long hair

off the brush roller every time

I vacuumed. Such a nuisance.

Now I vacuum twice a week,

the dust cup is only half full,

there is no longer any need 

to clean off the brushes--

and I miss it. 

I used to worry about 

stepping on our black dog

when I got up at night.

 He spent the first few hours

sleeping under my side of the bed,

as he had as a puppy, but after that, 

he could be anywhere.

 

Now I walk without worry,

there are no 70 pound surprises

hidden in the dark to be stepped on.

No Malamute wedged beneath my bed--

and I miss it.

 

When I laid down on the floor 

to stretch and exercise,

Baldr would lie beside me, 

spooning, like he did with Tracy,

making it all but impossible

for my work out to work out.

It was a problem.

Now if I exercise on the floor,

Baldr's dog buddy Mykah

pays no attention at all.

No mammoth Malamute in my way--

and I miss it.

I miss the guardian 

of my grand babies,

my welcome mutt

waiting at the back door,

my Bible study buddy

napping under my bed,

the solace of stroking him.

 

But, most of all, I miss

the tangible connection

with the son who loved him

and brought him to our home,

 the part of Tracy we could still touch. 

 

And I miss it. 

I miss them both.