Ya’ll know that I’m not a big New Year’s resolutionist. And I’m not a huge fan of change, either. I tend to eat the same meals every week, go to bed at the same time every night (even on the weekends), and write from the same desk every day. I’m not one of those writers who can pick up my laptop and head to a coffee shop. Generally I prefer my quiet routine.
For twelve and a half years Bruiser, our golden retriever, shared it with me, but we lost our sweet baby around Halloween last year. The rascal had been my shadow for so long, the loss left me reeling.
Bruiser grew up as a playmate to our two sons, then considered himself an only child when they moved on.
He was my fierce protector, yet the big lug cowered in our walk-in shower during thunderstorms and fireworks. Wherever we went, he wanted to go too, and two-thirds of the back seat belonged to him, didn’t matter if someone was already sitting in that spot. And elevators? Forget it! The first time he rode in one, he landed, belly on the floor, all four legs stretched out, and we never enticed him into another one. Bruiser was full of personality.
The fierce ache of loss hasn’t diminished and the tears still catch me off-guard. I just keep telling myself to cherish the memories and one day I’ll see that sweet, joyful, mischievous face again in heaven, and catch a whiff of his bad doggie breath. 🙂
But life marches on, doesn’t it? That flip to January on the calendar marks a new year, a fresh slate, a new beginning. It’s time to get back to writing. To carve out a new routine. But now, instead of my companion snoring softly behind me in the office, I’ll have to be content with the wildlife that meander across our back yard.