About 10 days ago on November 16 we had to do the hardest and bravest thing dog owners do. My precious Boston Terrier, Juliet, at 12 years old, went over the rainbow bridge. After 12 years of barks and the pitter patter of paws, my house is silent.
For 8 of those years, she was my office buddy. I had a tons conversations with her daily, about anything and everything, the serious and mundane. As most entrepreneurs know, it can be very lonely working for yourself, especially working from home. Her presence (and seemingly constant need to be fed) honestly kept me from going insane. Some days I would work from the couch with her right next to me.
She comforted us when our other Boston passed, and when other family members passed. I look to the couch, the rug, the bed, all of the places where she’d be and she isn’t there. Worse, there is an innate sense that she’s still here and I need to tend to her needs — everything from getting up in the morning and expecting to let her out, to wondering where she is when it’s been a few hours without seeing her. I look for her. And then remember. The void is real and deep.
The emptiness and sadness are intense as is the fear that one feels in those first days after death. The fear that we’ll forget their voice, the memories, or that somehow we failed them.
I picked up her clay paw prints from the Vet this holiday weekend and had a few newer photos of her printed.
Holding her last Friday as she passed was heart wrenching. I will love and miss this little soul forever.
Juliet D: November 14, 2006 – November 16, 2018
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