It’s been three weeks and two days. That’s when Scooby passed away. On February 14th. He was 150 years old. It seems like yesterday. It seems like forever. It seems like it never even happened.
But then something reminds me that it’s real. That he is gone. I can’t keep those moments away. And sometimes they hit with such force that they knock my entire being.
A few days ago I stood at this very spot, greeting the morning and the mountain. It was a place that Scooby and I frequented. It feels different now. Right down to my balance. It was off.
Because holding a leash in my hand really did keep me balanced. Maybe not the way you think. But it did. And I miss that balance.
We gazed toward the mountain together. I knew he was not there physically. But emotionally, spiritually, he was still right there. Close by. And it felt good.
Then everything changed.
A woman appeared, she stood a few feet away. She was softly crying. She was physically alone. Although at her ankles she may have been surrounded by lots of happy memories, just as I was.
A moment later I asked if she was ok. She said she was. That she was crying for a friend. I thanked her for doing that. I told her I did that too.
A few seconds later she turned toward me, not all the way but just ever so slightly, and said “I loved Scooby and I miss him too.”
Then she turned and walked away. I didn’t even have time to respond.
She said what she needed to say. I’d never seen her before, wouldn’t know her if I saw her again. The words were the memory.
When I got home a sliver of sun was shining through the window. It was focused directly on Scooby’s dining room bed. The very reason that his bed was placed where it was. Because he loved to nap in the sun.
But the sun also spotlighted the dust on the floor. And the Scooby fur too. Because since that day three weeks and two days ago I have not vacuumed.
I’ve not wanted to dislodge the presence that I still so much want to keep near.
I got down on the floor to better see it. The dust and the fur. They glowed in the sunlight. They looked happy. They did no harm.
Then a cloud bumped the sun and it moved. And that spot on the floor dimmed. But it reminded me that Scooby was still close by.
I had the morning and the mountain. I had the tears from another that joined my own inside. I still have the dust and the fur. I have the memories everywhere. So many memories.
They may not seem like enough but they’re all I have. And for that I am grateful.
I can’t smoosh his face the way I used too. I can’t give him tummy tickles and I can’t fold his ears up like a bonnet. I can’t rub the magic spot on his forehead. I miss him but I’m still lucky.
Because I knew him.
Because I got to be at one with him.
Because I loved him.
And it was even better because you loved him too. Thank you for that.
Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org