Three months after losing Bear, we’re still coming to terms with this new, ‘dog-free’ life. A few days after he left us, I started jotting down all the things that reminded me of him – and our darling Annie. So here’s my slightly random stream of consciousness as I reflect on life without Bear.
A gravy bone in my dressing gown pocket
The wee stain on the patio
A small poo on the lawn, baked hard in the sun that neither of us wants to remove
A tin of sardines in the cupboard
Balls. Everywhere. Under sofas, in corners, behind the table leg, hiding in the long grass, in the car, in the bottom of the dog buggy, some even in toy baskets
Tennis balls, squeaky balls, balls with faces, balls found like treasure on walks, (always the best kind), balls that were wrapped in Christmas paper (bet you can’t guess what it is!), rugby balls, squishy ones, tiny ones, big ones
His harness hanging limply on the banister
Dog beds in the back of the cars
Safety harness still clipped into the seatbelt
Water bowl and blanket in the boot. Spare tennis ball. Poo bags. So many poo bags.
The dog room. Can we still call it a dog room?
Waterproof trousers, his and hers hanging on the hook. Big coats, rain coats, wellies, walking boots, spares.
Water shoes for paddling in streams and throwing stones for woofing at
Dog walking bags – I never did find the ‘perfect’ one
More poo bags. In every single pocket
Dog coats. Rain coats, warm coats, snuggle you up after a haircut coats, dry you after a swim coats. Knitted, ‘oh doesn’t he look handsome coats’
Dog meds. Pills and potions, steroid chart (remember to tick off the day), emergency bum pills (don’t ask), supplements, good oils and joint pills, herbal tonics and first aid stuff
Grooming box for infrequent torture. Tick puller, soft brush, mean, unused comb, buzzy clippers for the boys to share
Jars full of dog treats. Chewy ones, crunchy ones.
Dog towels, (we’re down to our last 200)
Duvets and cwtch you up blankies
Toys by the lorry load. Birthday toys, Christmas presents from Grandma toys, always in twos, one always abandoned by Annie as soon as she left, toys.
Toys in the mending pile hidden in the wardrobe
Bear’s toothbrush in the bathroom (are you just eating the toothpaste, Bear? Whatever works)
Lickki mat in the dishwasher. Snuffle mat by the coffee table. Pink paw game by the water bowl. Kong Wobbler in the corner (still has some treats left)
Blankie on the sofa. Dog step with a non-slip mat (let’s leave it for now)
Baby shampoo in the bathroom for head washing. Paul Mitchel for a bright beard (fat chance) and a sweet smelling bod
White board on the landing to block the stairs, just in case
Beanbag in the lounge, commandeered for morning lounging. Slightly yoghurt stained from a Bear beard
Non slip mats trialling through the house
Beds everywhere. Bear beds. Annie beds. Beds for mornings. Beds for evenings. Beds for car rides.
The untouched birthday cake in the fridge – 15 today! Hooray!
Things that feel wrong:
Eating all the toast/bread/rice/veg
Nobody watching you eat
Peeing alone (that door won’t barge itself open)
No shower monitor waiting patiently in his bed outside the door
Sitting anywhere you like on the sofa (in theory, not yet tested)
Walking (who walks without a dog? Only psychos, right?)
Working (how do you work without an office dog by your desk?)
Talking during the day (who’ll listen to me prattle on now?)
Yoga. I’m alone on the mat with an uninterrupted view of the screen
Getting up in the morning – no wagging tail to welcome the day
Naps on the sofa. No little head on my feet, no warm furry body curled into the hollow under my chin
Leaving the house – there’s someone missing
Coming home – is this the right house?
Going out without needing to be home. Freedom is over-rated
Being home – why is this house so deathly bloody quiet?
The Little Bear Dog Blog 