“His name was Jake” the man said almost as an afterthought.
He and his wife had smiled at Chester as we passed.
“We had to put our old golden down last week,” he said, unprompted as if we were mid conversation.
Chester and I stopped walking.
“I’m so sorry.” I said.
Memories of the dogs I’ve loved and lost showed up at the speed of thought – I knew firsthand what this man and his wife were feeling and I was truly sorry for their loss.
A calm fell over Chester, he dropped his frisbee and leaned in for a pat.
The man gently ruffled the fur around Chester’s neck – it was a well practiced ruffle.
“He had a good life.”
There was no doubt he had. The couple were holding hands and probably hearts as they moseyed. The strain of whatever held back their tears was evident on their faces.
“They leave such heartache behind.” I said.
As compelled as I was to acknowledge their grief by sharing a story of my own we didn’t linger. I expressed my sympathy again and turned to leave.
“His name was Jake.”
#memories #gooddogs #remembering #brokenhearts
Comments (3)
Yes, they do. And when memory decides to slip away and you can’t remember the name of the ginger cat who let you put dolls clothes on him when you were a kid, it hurts again.
Penny – but you still remember…
Penny. I feel like Jake is everyone’s pet… we don’t ever forget. Xo