Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Those were the days, my friend, I wish they'd never end....

She and I were inseparable.   First thing in the morning as I would swing my legs out of bed I had to be careful not to step on her as she would be right there waiting for me. I could quietly walk from the den to the study, and even in a sound sleep she knew I had moved.  Within half a minute, tops, she would round the corner and take up her new position a few feet away from my desk chair.  Even while in the bathroom I knew she was right outside the door.  I knew because I would see her little telltale paw literally slid under the door.  

We had our assigned territory.  I would sit in my big leather chair and put my feet on the right side of the large ottoman, and she would plop herself down on the left side.  Peaceful coexistence.  At dinnertime she would position herself between K and I, confident that at least one of us would drop a morsel of food.  (I could be a very clumsy eater sometimes. *wink*)

She and I could communicate telepathically.  She would turn her head towards me and give me "the look" #1 or #2...."I'm hungry" or "I gotta go out, please."  Sometimes I could be a little too absorbed in something and she would have to lightly put her paw on my foot to get my attention, her way of saying "my turn".  Or my favorite:  I would put my hand under her chin (I guess dogs have "chins", right?) and scratch her on top of her head, and in about 3 seconds she would go limp and just let me hold her head up while she basked in the affection.

She could be mischievous.  If I would come in after an outing, and then go back out again before she felt she had gotten her due attention, she would go in the bathroom and overturn the waste basket in protest.  But before I could return she'd think about it and know it would make me unhappy, and she'd regret doing it.  Except without thumbs, she couldn't undo her evil deed.  I would come back home and she would be sitting at the door, her head bowed, her ears pinned back.  I'd give her a terse "Emma!  What did you do?", and she would jump on me meekly seeking forgiveness.  Being the benevolent King that I am, of course I'd give her a full pardon after a few wet licks.

I never realized how well sound-insulated our home is.  It is deafeningly quiet here all of a sudden.



  1. Reading this makes me get misty, especially when I think of our dear Ellie, our Corgi, gone now for three years. I still see her out of the corner of my eye as I'm sure you'll see your Emma for months to come. Maybe these two souls are up on the Rainvow Bridge playing together. Isn't that a nice thought? Take care.

  2. awwww, I can so relate!
    I have a similar relationship with my cat, Shila... she has her "signals" as well. and when she was at the vet only those 2 nights, it was so weird.

  3. Our cat, Jazz, the tiny one, has a feeling for when I have slept too long in the morning. She comes in and parks by my bed, mewing quietly and loudly until I finally give up, open my eyes, and pat the bed a couple of times. Then she comes up and dotes on my blanket covered body. Pets. They are so adoring and so adored. It's tough when they leave.

  4. This is the saddest entry to read. Sniff, sniff. What a loss.