Raina

I remember her coming home with us, cradling her in my lap and me being upset. I felt sick at having been part of her leaving her mother. She was so little, just weeks old and the first to leave the litter.

We kept her close and cared for in that Autumn time. And eight more since. She was the first dog in my life.

This week we lost our dear companion and I'm still being caught in odd moments. I continue to look for that box of photos that show her as a puppy.

She arrived before we had babies and when each of the babes started moving she was one of the first toys they found to play with. She was a dear playmate for Autumn. 
She is part of the family picture.

I find myself opening the laundry door to get her up in the mornings. I hear a noise and subconsciously credit her gentle presence, I look for her when there are apple cores to be shared because these were a favourite treat. I hear her crying to join when there's a ball game. I ensure the front gate is always closed so she doesn't choose to go visiting people of her own accord. I hear her nails tapping as she walks through the room. I hear her groan in her sleep as she resettles, or scratch around in her bed in the middle of the night to make it more comfortable. 

Our lovely furry friend who would find the warmest, sunniest spot in the house, just like a cat. She shared her love and affection with many family, friends, neighbours and aquaintances, and it was returned.


A gentle, patient soul.

She has left a mark; muddy and smudged in places, clear and reflective in others. 

Rest well my friend.