The Goodest Boy

No, the title is not wrong. Read on.

It’s all the fault of Linda Caroll. In a good way. I read a piece by her that was a stream of consciousness experiment that she invited others to participate in. So I am. So this is disjointed and only lightly edited for spelling. Here you go, Linda, thank you for the nudge. But maybe not the tears.

I find it odd that I’ve never done this before — just set a timer and wrote. Anyway, better late than never.

Why did I get up so early this morning? I had every intention to stay in bed.

I’m just that well trained.

Thanks, Harley.

I know he no longer needs to get up before the sun to go outside to smell that spot at the end of the driveway. The dogs next door no longer feel the need to crap at the end of the driveway now that my boy is gone.

I miss you, Harley. From your ever-irritated floppy ears right down to your nails that you’d never let us cut. You were a good boy.

The goodest boy on the whole road, and since our road is miles long, that’s saying something!

You used to light up when I told you that bit of silliness, but it was true. You were the best-behaved boy.

You’ve left this gaping void in all our hearts. Queenie misses you. She looks across the road and barks for you — wondering where you are.

I have to force myself to go for a walk every day, or I‘d sit here in this chair and rarely go outside. I settle for one walk, usually after supper.

Now that it’s getting warmer out, you’d like those walks.

The dogs next door don’t know what to make of me when I’m walking without you. They look at me like something is missing — and you are. I feel empty without you by my side, no matter how much Kitty tries to fill that spot.

He’s out of sorts too, even though he didn’t like you much.

He wandered around those first few days looking for you. Especially at night when it was bedtime. He actually looked up the stairs wondering why you weren’t coming down. And the two of you only lived together for a year and a half.

You and I shared nine and a half years.

I still look for you in your chair. Under the table and out on that loveseat on the covered porch.

I still get choked up when I see you sitting on the shelf now, your pawprint and tuft of hair in the shadowbox frame.

You may have been the runt of the litter, and not as healthy as you should have been, but we all loved you, Harley.

I loved you.

Always will. You were my good boy.

Thank you for spending your life, and your last minutes with me. For trusting me.

For loving me.

Love you, Harley.

Rest in peace, buddy.