Dreamed About My Girls
Seven months have passed since we said goodbye to Lana. And six months have passed since we said goodbye to Myla. Although I miss them daily, I usually do a good job of looking forward instead of back. But sometimes, just sometimes, I don't do it so well. Today is one of those days, I woke up with tears in my eyes. I had dreamed about my girls. It was so real. I felt Myla's warmth against me again and I saw her loyal eyes with her special look. I heard Lana bark and felt her nudging me with her nose to encourage me to throw her ball.
When I woke up and opened my eyes, it felt like they could still be there, like they always were. But the reality was that they were gone, never to come back. And although you know that very well when you make that last journey, the real realization only sinks in much later. When you come home those first few times, and you only see one dog happily approaching you, you automatically look where the other two are. It feels like a slap in the face when you realize that they are no longer there. The house has felt so empty and quiet since those days. No dog is just a dog, they are part of your family. For me, they were an essential part of what my life revolved around. The first mornings I got up, I still expected to see their eyes on me, full of curiosity and love.
I Feel It In The Silence
That expectation is over now. But the loss is still everywhere. You can feel it in the silence during walks, where the sound of Lana's playful barking and Myla's happy jumps are missing. Of course, we also enjoy Skipper every day. Fortunately, he is still with us. But it all feels different for him too. He also needed time to get used to his new role, as the only dog in the house. And he cannot fill the void that Lana and Myla left behind. He doesn't have to, he's a personality of his own. He doesn't seek out blooming flowers to sniff like Myla used to. His playful enthusiasm with the ball is great and makes me laugh every day, but it inevitably reminds me of Lana, who never seemed to get tired. Skipper likes it but isn't as extremely driven as Lana was. Now I often stand there alone with a ball in my hand, without seeing expectant eyes urging me to throw again.
In the evening on the couch, the loss is perhaps the greatest. Of course, Skipper also comes to lie down with us to cuddle, but he never stays there for an entire movie. Skipper is also busy watching movies and reacting to what he sees. That's also touching and cozy, for sure! Don't get me wrong. But I miss the peace that Myla and Lana radiated in the evening. They practically crawled onto my lap and gave me a very warm and cozy feeling of real connection. Those cozy evenings, with their warm bodies against me all night long, are a thing of the past. That intensely contented feeling of being together, of real connection and company without words, is gone.
Only One Bowl Of Food
Even in the most basic daily routines, I am reminded of the loss. Three bowls of food twice a day changed to two bowls of food twice a day, and now it is only one bowl of food, twice a day. You don't want to know how often I wanted to fill three bowls in the beginning, and how often I want to fill two bowls now. It is a painful reminder every time of how quickly everything has changed. Skipper, Lana, and Myla had different personalities. Skipper is a dog with a backpack, and he is very reactive out of fear. He certainly had trouble with trust in the beginning. We never noticed that with Lana, even though she had also been through enough before we got her from the shelter. Skipper is insecure. Lana was a dog who was bursting with self-confidence, solved everything herself, and was incredibly stubborn and smart. Myla put her trust in us blindly, she was wonderfully carefree and cheerful, and incredibly sweet and social to everything and everyone. But she was also certainly a fierce defender of her owners when necessary. I have experienced so much with both dogs and so many memories. The emptiness is not only physical, it is especially emotional. Their presence made the house lively, and now it is quiet.
Myla Was Skipper's Mentor
It was also difficult for Skipper, especially in the beginning. In his first week here, it was Lana who helped him, until she went into heat and didn't want to know anything about him anymore. Poor Skipper didn't know what was happening to him, but at that moment Myla took over Lana's role. And in all the time that they were together, Myla remained Skipper's mentor. She played with him, she taught him what was and wasn't possible. She was there for him. The loss for him is also great. He has adapted to the new reality, as dogs do. But it wasn't easy for him either.
Constant Feeling Of Incompleteness
Anyone who has ever lost a beloved pet knows that the loss is not always connected to specific moments. But that it is just a constant feeling of incompleteness. An empty place in your heart that plays up at inexplicable times. For me today it was a dream I had, but often it also happens when I catch a glimpse of something that reminds me of them. A beautiful flower, a ball, or even the way the sunlight falls into the room. They are no longer there to share that moment with, and that realization hurts.
