As I write this, I feel adrift. Beau has been sick for a few months now and the day I’ve been dreading has arrived. The sadness comes in waves. I’m fine one moment and this feeling in my chest appears and I remember he’s gone. The world keeps going like nothing happened and I lost a soul in my life.

Since he was a puppy, Beau was a character. A trouble maker from the start, most of his nicknames came from his mischief. Bug, Whataredoing, Getouttathere. His love of smelling things had no end. If that sniff came back remotely positive, you better believe he’d eat it. No garbage can was safe around him.

Barking at nothing was a favorite past time. Chasing squirrels, rabbits, deer, and chipmunks a game he loved and always lost. The critters in the backyard just got a break, to say the least. He’d even eyeball and bound after planes that flew over the house.

He hated the rain but adored the snow.

I came home for the first time today and he wasn’t there. Unless he was deciding to be a sleepy pup, I could count on him greeting me. Routines that I’ve had for more than a decade suddenly stopped. The clock in the kitchen sounds bizarrely loud now, the ticks of every second now have extra space to echo in.

One of my favorite things in life is when it’s just you and your dog. He’s lounging around and notices you looking at him. He wags his tail in response, simply happy that you’re together. “It’s good to see you!”

Bug, I love you to the moon and back.