Jada

This afternoon I made a familiar trek from the back door of my house to my car. This time was different, though. The wagging body of my Australian Shepherd Jada was starkingly absent. I got to my car and felt as if I'd walked a mile. Minutes passed while I cried under the realization she will never walk with me again.

It was always our thing, as many things had become in our five years together. She'd get so excited at the possibility of going with me and she'd wait for the "load up", which meant she could go or the "you have to stay home," which sent her sulking into the house.

She's gone now. She died late Sunday evening after being hit by a car 'in' our driveway/yard area. I was on my way home and just moments before I found out she was gone, I'd been thinking about her.

Those of you who knew Jada and I know that she was more to me then just a dog. She was my companion, my best friend, her world revolved around me. In describing her, I often told people, "She doesn't do any tricks. She just loves me."

And she did.

All day today I remembered her. In some cases, I was forced to - she's no longer in my shadow or under my feet. In other instances, I wanted to.

Tonight she's just not here and I want her to be. I want her curled up at my feet, to get up and follow me to bed, to lay beside me, to just be here. I want her here.

I am so lucky to have loved and been loved by a dog like her for the past five years. But right now, this hole in my life completely sucks. And hurts.