You would have been 12 years old next month…

…February 2nd to be exact. You would have been 84 in dog years. But…

I find myself, less than an hour after I hugged your warm, furry body for the last time, unable to sit still — scurrying, even running, through every room to erase the damning evidence that you even existed. I want you to be a memory! Now! Not tomorrow, not next week, not next year, NOW!!! I want my eyes to see nothing that conjures the illusion that you are RIGHT THERE or even just beyond these walls in the next room. In fact, I’m not even sure I want you to be a strong memory. Maybe just a fleeting memory.

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