Sort of a strange post, but it seems fitting since I am sitting here missing my dog Cookie. She died Monday evening at almost 16 years old. Really, she was Olivia's dog, sweet, loyal, neurotic. She was mortally afraid of thunderstorms and would dig her way out of the backyard to escape. We were building a relationship with the people at the pound because she'd been picked up so many times - too old and senile to figure out how to get back to her own house once she had escaped.

 

The house seems empty without her energy, happy little wagging tail when we came in at night - or when she was ready to eat in the morning. Even though she had slowed down quite a lot over the last year or so, she still came out to say hello when she heard us. And there she was, waiting by the door like ususal, just not breathing anymore. 

 

All of life ends, some times tragically, sometimes not.  But it always ends in death.  May I be found waiting faithfully for my loved ones to come home.