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Goodbye Dear Friend

Alfie, my black Labrador, was my constant companion throughout much of my writing career. His place was on the carpet to my left, snoozing, while I tap away on the keys of my laptop. He had several “places”. The kitchen doorway, where he waited to bound into the room to greet me in the morning. Sitting by my chair at the kitchen table at mealtimes, with an expectant look on his face. Taking on the role of my shadow as I go about my daily chores. Walking beside me on one of our many walks together. Alfie had many places … during the years he shared our life.

Unfortunately, my writing buddy died in July 2017 with a suspected brain tumour. He died peacefully, in the sunshine and in our company. It was hard to believe that only 24 hours before we were enjoying a long walk in the countryside together. We were ill prepared for his passing, despite knowing that one day his death would be inevitable.

We, like many others who have lost a beloved pet, had to learn to live with the empty space at our table, the absence of his joyful greeting in the morning and the empty space on the carpet as I wrote my next novel. It is impossible to explain the grief one feels at losing a beloved family pet, especially when there is so much greater suffering in the world. However, the grief and tragedies of others make our own feelings of loss no less easier to bear, for the memories of his love, devotion and boundless joy is everywhere and are both a comfort and a reminder of all that we have lost.

It has been several years since his death, yet even now there are still times we remember him and notice the empty space on the carpet where he would have sat, but we have a strange feeling he is still beside us, even if we cannot see him in the way that I would like.

Tribute To A Best Friend
Author Unknown

Sunlight streams through window pane
unto a spot on the floor….
then I remember,
it’s where you used to lie,
but now you are no more.

Our feet walk down a hall of carpet,
and muted echoes sound….
then I remember,
It’s where your paws would joyously abound.

A voice is heard along the road,
and up beyond the hill,
then I remember it can’t be yours….
your golden voice is still.

But I’ll take that vacant spot of floor
and empty muted hall
and lay them with the absent voice
and unused dish along the wall

I’ll wrap these treasured memorials
in a blanket of my love
and keep them for my best friend
until we meet above.