I’m struck every day by how much a part of our life Yoshi was. I’m constantly doing things or seeing things that remind me of him. Even stuff like going to bed at night. We had a nightly ritual of Greg sending him out for a pee, one of us moving his bed into the kitchen and then locking him up in there so he wouldn’t sleep on the furniture or wake us up with his click clacking of nails on the hardwood. It still feels a bit strange to go to bed without doing all that. And when I leave the house I start to do a mental check to make sure everything is dog-proofed, and then I stop myself.
Today I went for a run and realized that my long-standing claim of loving to run by myself is not true. I love to run with my dog. It’s just not the same without him.
Most of these painful reminders will continue to ease with time, but some of them (like running alone) won’t really ease until we get another dog. Greg and I have both said we’re going to wait until the kids are older, as we will be the first to admit that, despite the loss, not having a dog is more practical than having one. But I’m starting to think that “older” is maybe not as old as I originally thought. I really miss the canine company.