Two years. Hard to believe. It still feels like she's at a trip to my mom and dad's and will come panting in the door any minute. Even though she wouldn't know this door. And she wouldn't know Clara. And Charlie would look like a grown man to her now.
She is constantly on my mind. On our minds. She would have loved it here. She would have been eleven now, an old lady in dog years. I imagine she would have lived out her twilight years on our screen porch, chasing all the wildlife in her mind.
I miss her when Clara's 9,492th puff lands on the floor.
I am still not sure we will ever get another dog. My heart, well, it's still broken. She was...the best.