One More Time

I couldn't begin to count the times I've left the house and told the dogs be good, I'll be back later. Crazy dog people like me say things like that. A friend of mine instructs her dog each day to keep the elephants away. She doesn't live anywhere near elephants. Saying things like this are a term of endearment. A love language of sorts. A ritual, a transition, from being in the presence of our beloved pets, to going out into the world. Leaving them is hard sometimes.

I had to leave Layla for the last time. I held her and whispered, I've got you, I've got you, I've got you. Until all I had left were memories. It sucks. Big time. Letting go is so hard. In reality she left me, way before I was ready.

I've had to let lots of things go. We all do. It never gets easier.

Pets give love in such a pure and nonjudgmental way. I mean, they could judge me, lol. I am far from perfect. I'll admit I've wondered if when I leave, they put their heads together and say, whew, she's a nut job. But she's our nutjob and we love her.

I've felt that way about Layla. She was a wild child for years. She did miles and miles of perimeter checks. Barked the night animals away that came near her yard. Retrieved a zillion tennis balls. Tried repeatedly to crawl into my skin when it thundered. Did pet therapy visits and never met a stranger. In fact, she was always disappointed if a passerby neglected to stop to pet her. Rude.

I'd like to be a bit like she was. A little on the cray cray side. But completely adorable. I'd like to give a good side eye like she did. I'd like to have her joy, her resilience, her stamina.  Mostly, I'd like to kiss her one more time, say I've got you and I love you. One more time.