I really didn't pay much attention to the familiar sound of
her nails hitting the concrete stairs as she came down the three steps into the
great room. She brushed by my leg, tail wagging and head nodding eagerly up and
down with her tennis ball held tight, waiting for me to notice, inviting me to
play. She was doing her version of a dog dance, back and forth, happy to be
with us, healthy and eager for some play time. Delighted to see her, and
amazed, I asked Carla to pay attention, knowing that Kira had died of old age
more than three months before. It couldn't be real, but it was. I thought perhaps
I was dreaming and asked Carla what she thought. Carla agreed it was really
happening and the familiar company of my best buddy trumped logic. I buried my
nose deep in the fur of her neck breathing deeply of that wonderful, comforting
scent of my big girl.
The next morning, the dream came flooding back as I slowly
looped and examined each moment in my mind's eye. Kira had simply stopped by to
let us know that she was fine, her arthritis was gone, and that she loved us
every bit as much as we loved her. Death had not changed that at all.
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