DOG YEARS
(In the process of creating my new design site, I've gone through four years of blogs and realized I was missing my co-star more than I thought when I landed on this entry from june of 2010. Instead of blogging new today, I'd like to reflect on our little guy we miss so much! If you have pets, you know...wow, do they make an impact on your life! So, if you don't mind, here is one way I tried to work through that great loss...)
Life is ruff (pardon the pun). This morning one of our best friends headed on a new journey. If you don't own pets, you probably won't understand, but for those of us lucky enough to share life with these precious gifts from God, saying goodbye to them is incredibly painful. While I've only shared three years with Bones, it felt like twenty-one. For me, he was my best friend, my therapist, my hiking buddy, my warm blanket on a cold night and my cold, wet kiss on a hot summer day. The star of my life, Bones was also the star of many blog entries, as he'd insert himself in photos, sleep on my feet as I researched design ideas, swatting at me for attention. He was a lucky dog and we are lucky to have shared his life. He attended glamorous Hollywood photo shoots with Joe, slept in the back seat of my Mercedes on a hot southern California day, swam in his grandmothers pool in Palm Springs, traveled across the country in a motorhome rented just for him (and his sister). Born in Southern California, this hot dog lived a full life. While he preferred sprawling out under the steamy sun, he gladly hopped through mounds of snow with his sister in the cold New York winters. He barked at cows in Texas, chased deer in our back yard, pulled snakes out of our reservoir and spent countless hours staring at the cat from his window on the world. But now he is gone. Moved on to a giant, comfy sofa in the sky. While I know he's in a much better place, the pain of his absence lingers like the weight of a thousand designer chests on my heart. I understand that death is a part of life, but the pain of losing a loved one is often overwhelming. Where will that pain go? WHEN will that pain go? When my grandmother passed away I cooked some of her favorite dishes to celebrate her life, providing her own comfort food to make me feel better. A few months ago I bought designer pillows to jazz up an old sofa and Bones, true to form, took a liking to them immediately. Every day I'd come home from work to find him perched on the sofa he once ignored, sound asleep on the pillows he loved. It warms my heart to know that he had a comfortable, full life, but now I need comforting and he isn't here to provide it like he did so many times. Some people plant gardens when a loved one passes, so I thought of doing the same. Bones loved spending time in our yard. In fact, the last few months found him in a particular corner of it digging a hole. So, I plan on filling it with a beautiful plant that will remind me of our lovely Bones.
Life is ruff (pardon the pun). This morning one of our best friends headed on a new journey. If you don't own pets, you probably won't understand, but for those of us lucky enough to share life with these precious gifts from God, saying goodbye to them is incredibly painful. While I've only shared three years with Bones, it felt like twenty-one. For me, he was my best friend, my therapist, my hiking buddy, my warm blanket on a cold night and my cold, wet kiss on a hot summer day. The star of my life, Bones was also the star of many blog entries, as he'd insert himself in photos, sleep on my feet as I researched design ideas, swatting at me for attention. He was a lucky dog and we are lucky to have shared his life. He attended glamorous Hollywood photo shoots with Joe, slept in the back seat of my Mercedes on a hot southern California day, swam in his grandmothers pool in Palm Springs, traveled across the country in a motorhome rented just for him (and his sister). Born in Southern California, this hot dog lived a full life. While he preferred sprawling out under the steamy sun, he gladly hopped through mounds of snow with his sister in the cold New York winters. He barked at cows in Texas, chased deer in our back yard, pulled snakes out of our reservoir and spent countless hours staring at the cat from his window on the world. But now he is gone. Moved on to a giant, comfy sofa in the sky. While I know he's in a much better place, the pain of his absence lingers like the weight of a thousand designer chests on my heart. I understand that death is a part of life, but the pain of losing a loved one is often overwhelming. Where will that pain go? WHEN will that pain go? When my grandmother passed away I cooked some of her favorite dishes to celebrate her life, providing her own comfort food to make me feel better. A few months ago I bought designer pillows to jazz up an old sofa and Bones, true to form, took a liking to them immediately. Every day I'd come home from work to find him perched on the sofa he once ignored, sound asleep on the pillows he loved. It warms my heart to know that he had a comfortable, full life, but now I need comforting and he isn't here to provide it like he did so many times. Some people plant gardens when a loved one passes, so I thought of doing the same. Bones loved spending time in our yard. In fact, the last few months found him in a particular corner of it digging a hole. So, I plan on filling it with a beautiful plant that will remind me of our lovely Bones.
