As I was eating lunch today, I decided that I didn't really want the last couple of bites. Three weeks ago, a little white dog would have been watching my every bite and I would have handed him nibbles all along. I would have given him those last couple of bites as well. It made me sad to toss it in the trash instead. Nevermind that the odds were pretty good, I would have wound up doing that anyway because it was hard to know if Petey would take table scraps or not.
Little stuff like that pops up all of the time. At least now, I don't cry about it, at least not every time, or as much. There are two times that I miss Petey the most and it is going to take longer for me to get over. Those two times are when I leave the house and when I come home.
Long time readers will remember Petey's very strict rules. All Petey rules were very strict! One of them was about leaving the house. Simply put, don't do it. If however it is unavoidable, do it only once per day. Coming & going, particularly in rapid succession were just not tolerated well. Heaven forbid, that we get to the car and realize we left something inside. We'd actually discuss if we really, really needed it and if so, who had to go inside and get it.
Once I started working from home, I tried to limit myself to one trip per day still, trying to pile up all my errands in to one trip. I'd sneak out while he was asleep and leave treats in the kitchen floor for him. I hoped that would make up for the fact that he didn't find me when he woke up. If I left while he was awake, I'd tell him how long I'd be gone and give him a treat. Often he wouldn't take it because he knew what that meant. I guess he hoped that if he didn't take the treat I wouldn't leave.
Coming home is harder still than leaving. When Petey was in his prime, we'd be greeted with the Petey Dance. He was just so glad to see us that he couldn't keep still. He'd have been waiting on the back of the couch where he could see out the front window. He'd race to the kitchen door the minute he saw the car and prance around excitedly until we came in. It felt good to be so loved and welcomed. As he got older, he didn't greet us at the door so much and his hips didn't allow for much dancing, but he always was obviously glad we were home.
On the drive home from wherever, even a quick trip to the store, my mind would always be casting ahead to what Petey would need when I got home, or what he might have done in the house, or maybe he was still asleep and didn't know I'd gone. My first thoughts were always of him.
For 12+ years, my mind headed that way. It will take a while to retrain my thinking. That's OK. I like remembering Petey. In time, I'll smile more at the memories rather than cry.
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