There are reminders of Shelby all around the house. The irony is that the things I miss the most are the things that most annoyed me:
The blonde fluff everywhere. Her dad used to say ‘She sheds more fluff than she can produce’.
The snoring over the volume of her dad.
The clip of her toenails on the floor in the middle of the night.
The yelping, signalling she wanted to go outside, and inside and outside and inside and…you get the picture.
I put my dinner on the coffee table two nights ago – when I was alone to eat it by myself in front of the telly. I put it in the middle of the table so she couldn’t get it. If we forgot to feed her, then nothing stopped her from climbing onto the lounge-chair, straddling the chasm between seat and table, and eating whatever was there.
Then I realized, I can put my food on the floor now, and it will stay intact.
No-doggy to lick the plates clean.
No clicking of her paws as she climbed into the electric fry-pan on the floor.
No spaghetti-stained fur on the top of her head after she’d dug into a big pot and tipped it over so she didn’t miss one lick.
No snuffly noises as she tried to investigate who was on the other side of the door.
The garden won’t be sat on or dug up anymore.
It doesn’t matter if the gas-man leaves the gate ajar.
And no-doggy to sit at the side of the bed or chair alerting me that someone needs more loving than usual.
I’ve never had a dog before so I’ve never lost one either.
But I wish it hadn’t taken me until she was gone to realize how much she taught me.
And how much I’ll miss her.