“Your items are ready for pickup.” That was all it said. It was a text from the veterinarian’s office. I couldn’t remember ordering anything and kept looking at the text trying to decipher the meaning. Then I realized, the “items” were Waffles’ ashes and paw print.
I called my husband and asked if he could swing by the vet office after work to pick up the “items.” He said that he would and I spent the rest of the day telling myself that it wouldn’t be that bad. It had been a couple of weeks and I felt that I could handle it.
My husband (let’s start calling him Mez. This is getting redundant) came in with a little bag and showed me a beautiful card the veterinary office had written for us. I pulled a small box out of the bag. Waffles’ ashes. It was really beautifully done and I knew that we would find a nice place for them in time.
I said to Mez, “I was dreading this all day, but that wasn’t as bad as I thought.”
He said, “that’s not the one that hurts.”
He then pulled a small white imprint of Waffles’ paw from the bag.
It felt like I had been punched in the stomach. Oh, that paw. There was a little bit of dirt in the print from the morning run we had taken together just before the accident. It was so real. All of these memories just came flooding into my mind.
Taking his paw in my hand the day we adopted him. “Nice to meet you Waffles.”
My kids teaching him how to “shake.”
Him stretching out and reaching up his until his paws were resting on my leg (he wasn’t big but he sure knew how to take up room on the couch).
He would always know when I was having a bad day. He would sit by me and I would rub that paw.
The sound of his paws when we ran together in the morning.
Holding his paw and telling him he was going to be okay. Even though I knew he wouldn’t be.
Taking his paw in my hand and saying. “I love you, goodbye.”
He was so real. So important. Then he was gone and the only thing left were the “items” in my hands and the paw print that will forever be on my heart.
The Heralding Hound 