It Has Been 6 Years, I Still Miss My Dog

It has been six years since Reno died. On his death day, I have an awful day. For the first two years, I did not go to work on that day. Now I go to work, but I am not very productive. I never healed enough to get another dog. I have gotten cats, but no dogs since Reno. He was sixteen years old when he died from prostate cancer.

My little dog was beautiful, stubborn, manipulative, and he loved me more than he loved Milk-Bones. And he really loved Milk-Bones. Reno was a Shi Tzu. We got him when he was a puppy. A mischievous puppy. He made us laugh all the time with his doggie antics.

No matter what time of day or night, whenever I came home, he was at the door to greet me, his tongue hanging out. He was so happy to see me he would run back and forth in front of the door in a frenzy, spinning around and around until I walked in.

He would greet me at the door each day, ready for his walk. It was my fault he was expecting me to walk in, put my briefcase down, pick up his lease and walk him "right the hell now."

When he was small, I worried about him holding it all day, so I would rush in from work and take him out. Well, he considered that hurrying our everyday routine.

He was a charmer. He taught both cats to knock food down to him from the kitchen counter. We once caught our Maine Coon trying to drag an entire turkey off the table for their enjoyment. It was so funny that the cat was pulling the turkey, and the dog was cheerleading. We forgot to scold them.

Reno was with me for 16 years. I would have a big success, go out for a nice dinner with my husband to celebrate. When I returned home, I would bring a hamburger for my dog and celebrate with him.

I miss the long walks we would take. I miss him sitting on my feet as if they were not there. I miss feeding him and watching him eat the food appreciably, now and then looking up at me happily. I miss his stubbornness as I tried to teach him a new trick. You needed to show Reno who was the leader. Since he was smart, he would work to manipulate you into doing what he wanted. He was so delightful that it was easy to forget that you were the pack leader.

I would not pass up watching him look out the front window. He was the protector of our home. Anyone walking up to the door got shown who was in charge. I miss Reno sitting on my lap as I performed mundane tasks, his trusting eyes looking up at me as I rubbed his belly. Reno was my boy. My boy forever.

It has been six years. I should have gotten over Reno's death by now. I have not. If I close my eyes, I can feel him sitting on my lap that last day. He was in pain. Still, his tail wagged back and forth when I put him on my lap so the vet could administer the fatal drugs. I petted his head and let him know what a good boy he had been. He lay his head on my hand and panted out his approval of my rubs. My tears fell on his head as he crossed the rainbow bridge.

Perhaps I should have gotten another dog by now, but I haven't. Maybe it would help dim the sadness. I don't know. I wish these small creatures with whom we share the world lived longer. It hurts so when they leave.