I can't put these three things away...

OK, it's a bit odd, these three items sitting on our bar counter top; the half of the dog cookie with the DREADED PILL still stuck in the frosting that DadDadDad found in between the sofa cushions on the last day of your life; one of the homemade dog cookies I baked this past Christmas that I found hidden in a shoe in my closet; the beef bone you so carefully maintained outside all winter for which I posted a video here, that our grandson Vincent found when looking for Easter eggs , that you had reburied in an obscure spot in the yard a few days before you died.  I can't throw them away. 

The toys, except the two I have kept near me, your snake and Tiger Woods, went into the attic with the two sets of pet steps along with your "pet bed" (as we so lovingly called it, when your eyes were sleepy but you weren't ready for our bed), your water bowl, harness and leash, all painfully put out of sight in a futile effort to minimize the sorrow.

These three items remain in plain view for five weeks now, haunting me, reminding me

of your busy little life, filled with the plotting and the planning of the daily

routines you so methodically entertained.

We miss you WorldWideWillie.  We miss you chasing the h..o..n...k...e...r...s off of the lawn, now hugging our shoreline with a multitude of babies in tow.  We miss saying "get that bird" when the heron sat on the dock, as if awaiting your enthusiastic bark to send him on his way for which

he honked at you as his massive wings took flight. 

The bald eagle has swooped into the trees, looking down for you, hoping to lift you up with his foreboding talons, for his tasty meal and you aren't there.  We miss your inquisitive sniffing of the rip rap shoreline hoping to encounter a dead fish that you could drag onto the lawn to roll on  so we could laugh.  We miss sitting on the dock with a line in the water with you eagerly affixing your gaze on the red bobber, awaiting the catch of the day.

A few days ago, on a rare warm day, I sat in the rocking lawn chair, expecting you to jump up any moment bestowing those slurpy kisses on my face while firmly planting your butt on a comfy spot on my lap.  How can I ever enjoy sitting there soaking up the warmth

of the sun without you?

Eventually, these three little items will be gently wrapped and placed in the attic along with your other things, with the expectation of someday rediscovering them and to be reminded of how hard it was to let you go.  After all, its only been five weeks, and they will be put away when I stop counting the weeks on my fingers since you've been gone... and feeling the heaviness in

my heart without you.