5 o’clock

You had my heart the moment I saw your furry little body curled up in Dad’s arms, asleep on the couch. Then when you got so sick and I’d hold you when I came home from work, it sealed the deal. I was your person.

Then you followed your nose one morning and were lost to us for five agonizing days. We finally found you through our lost posters and someone else’s found posters and through our tears of joy we hugged you as you “told” us all about your adventures and your relief at seeing us again.

You’ve been my constant companion through starting a new life in Austin and moving eleven times.  Every major transition I’ve made in the last thirteen years, you’ve been the steady friend staying close, keeping watch. You have sat next to me and leaned in when I cried over breakups, failures, and losses.

You ALWAYS wanted to go with me whenever I left the house, and somehow you knew I was getting ready to go, even before I started getting ready.  You would stare at me with those piercing brown eyes asking the question every time. If I answered “are you ready?” you joyfully grabbed your leash and pranced out to the truck. If the answer was “you need to stay here”, your head would drop in utter dejection, testing my resolve not to take you. On trips where you couldn’t come, you greeted my returns with the same joy if I’d been gone for ten minutes or a long work trip.

My days with you were predictable: every day at 5 o’clock you would start staring at me, letting me know it was dinner time. Ten pm rolled around and you were staring at me again, asking for your good-night bone (you couldn’t go to sleep without it).

The last eight months with you have been hard, as I’ve watched the curse and death and pain take over your furry body. These days have been a gift, too. I’ve been able to love you and care for you, and take comfort that I’ve loved you the best I possibly could.

You’ve been a gift to me from the Father above. In a few days and with many tears, I’ll hand you back to Him, forever thankful I got to be your mom.  I will hand you back, standing in the Promise that someday, somehow He will make all things new and there won’t be any more goodbyes or tears or pain or death. You will always be the Doodlebug, the Mr. Darcy, in my heart and that place will forever be yours, even as our days together come to the end.