Dear Noah,
It’s the morning after and there’s something wrong. There was no bark at 7:12 as dad drives away to work.
The quiet is deafening as I make my coffee; no one is barking at the kitchen cabinet. So quiet your brothers and sister seem surprised when I yell “breakfast!”
No one drops a ball in my lap as I sip my coffee. No one nudges my arm waiting to play catch. Even my coffee cup seems to be glued to the table as there is no tail to launch it off.
In the shower I wait for the blue ball. You know the one. The one that broke Dad’s toes. But no ball bounces in the tub. No one barks for me to throw.
Later I empty the dishwasher but no stinky dirty ball is dropped in the clean dishes. Not once do I yell “get that ball outta there”. Writing this I have to wonder did you want your ball cleaned?
I continue my chores and realize there is no one barking at the potted plants. There is no ball down in the muddy water. There is no nose in the basket, no tail wagging waiting for my help.
Suddenly there is a knock at the door. No one has made it to the door in eight years. Not without you hearing them first. Your brothers and sister stir but no one barks. Every one knows that you protect the house.
Dad returns from work. Sadly it is quiet as we sit and talk. No squeaky frog or barking as if you are trying to join in the conversation. No one barks at Dad to get up and tip his chair. No ball or toy is pushed under there.
The house sleeps as my hand searches for your head. My tears fall and my heart breaks; I know you are gone.
Noah, you were the heart and soul of our home. If love could of saved you; you would of lived forever.
Forever in our hearts 🐾,
Mom and Dad, Fin, Mo and Mabel