It starts with a symptom, just a few too many things that aren’t quite right with a dog who has proven her resiliency time and time….and time, again.  The vet, the other vet, the search, the tumor.  Then the decision we had reached several times before but never had to commit to, the end of a life.  A life well lived for this family member, protecting us always, and being a part of the Love of our home.

And then a new dawn breaks and you come to understand how many times in a day you think of your dog when you work as well as live, at home.  Our very quiet home, goes nearly silent without the constant paw clicks on the wood floor, of a sentry on duty. The mailman still comes, but nobody is there to ferociously grab the mail from the mail slot.  The solicitors still arrive at the front door, no longer frightened away by the protector-in-chief, saving us from even opening the door.

There is no longer a constant companion at your feet, making sure you are okay as you work through your day.  Nobody to curl up with on the floor when grief strikes and you’re alone, but would rather not be.  Nobody to stand watch when you’re off to a meeting, carefully watching through a floor window with just enough view of the front perimeter to warn passers by.

Who will we trip over as we get up from the kitchen bar?  Who will do a final clean of our daily crumb droppings and spills?  And who, without ever really begging, will scour under the dining room table for one, just one little morsel of what we were feasting upon — morsels that the patriarch secretly planted.

The next time I playfully tackle one of my sons into the couch, nobody will be there to intervene — not knowing how such violence could be brought by a trusted family member against another.

And who will greet our visitors?  Who will examine every hint of a scent that was brought into our home by visitors from near and far, ensuring all is well while also enjoying the unfamiliar terrains she has not visited?

And this is just the first morning.  The first morning without our beloved Suki.  A nurse off to work, boys off to school, Pauka off to shop, and I with work to be done.  But I will not forget Suki — just as I have never forgotten Daisy, Penny nor Imber — the dogs of my life, each an integral chapter.

We all Love and miss you Suki, but trust you have sniffed through the gates of heaven and found Brady…He’ll take you on long walks where you’ll find the most amazing things to smell, lakes to swim in and snow for burrowing.  And you will be his faithful pup, forever walking side-by-side as you continue to watch over us.


  1. Beautiful sentiments, Ken. Yes, our canine friends and companions leave larges void and broken hearts when they are gone. It’s hard to get through that silence, but they know they were loved and we have lasting memories of their love and devotion.

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