My heart says that she went off,
found a quiet spot,
and died.

But my head still turns
at every rustle in the bushes,
every distant bark,
every knock or click or bump.

****

For the past few weeks, I’ve been letting her ride in the car with us
like I used to when she was a puppy.

I remember this one time – oh, it brings tears of joy to my eyes even now –
I left the pups in the car when I went in to pay for gas
(Back when you had to – gasp – go inside to pay)
And she put her two front paws on the horn and honked
and honked
and honked
and honked
and honked
until I finally came back out to find
a big dog grin, tongue out and her little nubbin tail wagging as hard as it could.
And her silly sister sitting beside her with that dopey smile on her face.

****

I remember when she bit Marshall.
He playfully tried to pop my behind.
She never bit another soul.

I remember how it took her approximately 8 hours
to outsmart the dog-proof trashcan.

I remember how she’d crawl under the crib
while the babies were sleeping.

I remember how I bought costumes for the dogs one Halloween
and she ate hers.

I remember how she’d squirm on the ground,
scratch her back and smiling.
And how she’d flop on the floor with at big sigh
and that one back leg tucked under.

I remember the time I was lounging in the hammock
and BOOM she jumped right up into my lap.

I remember how she hated the snow.
All 2″ of it.

I remember the beauty of her when she ran,
all muscle and speed.

And I remember how many times Marshall chased her and lost.
(Especially that one time when he full-body lunged at her and missed.
She and I were both amused.
He was not.)

I remember how she used to chase a light ’round and ’round and ’round
and if you ran the light up the side of the fence,
she’s go right up it, too.

I remember how her breath was always awful
and how she smelled like Doritos when she was wet.
(I never understood that).

I remember how fiercely she loved me and I her.
How, when she was around, I felt safe.

I remember how many tears she caught in those long, long days
of med school, residency, and early motherhood.

****

Fourteen years is a long time to have a shadow.
And now that the sun has set on her lifetime,
the darkness has stolen it away.

One day I may love another dog.
One day.
But it’ll never be the same.

I miss you, Maggie moo…