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I MISS MY DOG

2/1/2012

1 Comment

 
  I miss my Punk’n Louise. I miss not having her at my feet while I work at the computer. I miss not having her inspect the grocery bags when we return from shopping. I miss the smell of her paws, and the smoothness of her fur on my face. I miss watching her paws move when she dreamed. I miss her tilted head with the “flying nun” ears when she was in that inquisitive mode of “did I hear treat?” I miss her snoring. I miss the softness of her kisses. I miss hearing her crunch carrots. I miss vacuuming up the fur (yes I miss that too), and I miss picking up the pieces of food that she somehow missed that collected on the floor. I miss how she'd prance proudly around the house with her head held high and her tail curled up tight when she was given a new bone or plush toy - squeaking the whole time as she tried to find a safe place to put it, never truly realizing that there was no threat to anything she owned, and that no matter where it was, it was safe. I miss trekking around the yard with her, and throwing snowballs for her to catch. I miss her barking at the first snowfall, the doorbell, a visitor, the cat, commercials on TV with dogs in them or a bunny playing in the back yard. I miss watching toys fly across the room signaling it was time to play. I miss the look in her eyes, especially when she would watch me finish a bowl of ice cream knowing she’d get to finish it off. I miss how she’d shake with anticipation when we were eating steak. I miss finding dog treats hidden between and under the sofa cushions, or behind plants and doors or the corners of the room. I miss the days when we played with the Frisbee or swam in the river. I miss the toys all over the house and I miss the heavy sigh she released when she finally settled down for the night. I miss her morning wake-up calls. I miss playing with her ears. I miss her head on my shoulder when we’d go for a car ride. I miss cleaning out the hardened snow pellets from in between her paw pads when we’d come in from playing. I miss her bad breath and I miss the sound the tags on her collar made when she shook.

I miss my dog.

I miss my best friend.

I miss my daughter.

I miss my Punk’n Louise.
1 Comment
Kitten
2/4/2012 10:17:07 am

Please get anew poochina. There is one out there just waiting for you. I can even see if any of Poochina's bros. are left. You need a doggy. You have so much to give and you live at the perfect spot. Thinking of yiou, Lee xox

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    R.G. Brook (Look up... c'est moi), was born in 1959 in Peterborough, Ontario CANADA. I am a Class 1 Licensed Funeral Director, graphic and stained-glass artist & photographer (not to mention an all-around super duper fella), who loves far too many things to mention here. Oh... I'm very opinionated on some issues, but that doesn't mean I'm close-minded. Read the blog... you'll see.

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