Staring Death in the Eye

Boots left us sometime last night.

Mum discovered this while Dad and myself were on the way work. Of course, we turned around the get back to the house.

Strange that despite my love for Boots, I hadn't felt a pang of loss then. Reaching home and finding Boots dead... I wanted to reach out and give him the usual prod that I always do to see if he's still alive, hoping that he'll wake up. But I didn't. I knew that this was the end of his days just by looking at him... his blank stare, the hanging tongue. I returned that stare.

I wanted to close his eyes. But his whole body was stiff.

Touching Death. Its funny, but there's a difference when there life in a body. The last time I touched Boots, he felt more like a stuffed animal.

No longer will he prod me for attention with his wet nose, no longer will he rub himself against my leg and foot, no longer will he make that howl "Hello", no longer will he force his way into the house, no longer will he wait for me to pat him before he eats. Thinking now, about the finality of it... brings tears to my eye, a sense of pain from grief and despair threatening to break the dam of self control and flow through and out my mouth.

All there is now is a husk. A cold cold husk, buried six feet under in the ground by now, wrapped in a warm blanket...

God, I miss him.