Can't sleep. It's happened off and on since Annie died.
Some nights I lay in bed, like waiting up for a teenager who is out and hasn't come home. Waiting, waiting. I check the clock, the minutes tick by. She isn't coming home.
Changes of her being gone that I am missing. I can always find my slippers and shoes. Each paired up where I have left them the night before. It use to be I had to look in her bed to find one. Just one. She never took both. They would be tucked under her head or sometimes her nose would be almost inside the foot part, breathing in my scent.
I don't hear her shake her collar as she scratched. Sometimes I would scold her to stop scratching in the night when she had an allergy flare up. Sometimes it would be so irritating that I would put her cone on and remove her collar.
I miss her puppy dreams, with her legs moving in rhythmic motion as she made puppy yelps. I liked to watch her having her dreams, wondering what she dreamt.
I don't need to lower the lid of the toilet at night. Annie loved to drink from the toilet, but at night it was "if it's yellow, let it mellow", flushing the toilet at night is loud. She never left water on the seat, never drooled. Seems odd as at her water bowl she was so sloppy. Many a night if I peed she would come in to say hello, and I would give her a love. Happy dog with her flag waving tail. Then she would walk out and sigh as she lay in her bed. A deep sigh that I thought was contentment.
Annie was content. She knew she was loved. She had her doggy buddy and her kitty buddies. She had her human family. Outside was chickens and her chicken poop candy. It's true. She loved to pick up any chicken poop.
Another night, wide awake. I'll fall back into slumber next to my Love. The ache is gone, just the loneliness for her remains.