Hi, Baby. Mommy hears you.
Our youngest dog, age thirteen, passed away just before the Fourth of July. She was a warrior just like our angel. My angel on Earth said it best. ‘Mommy, my brother will have his puppy in Heaven.’
We were getting ready for our annual beach vacation. I had gathered most of our clothing and swim suits into the guest room and had begun pulling chairs from the hooks in the garage.
My dad is nice enough to take care of our dogs every year, and this year was extra tough because Layla, our lone puppy, is slower, a little hard of hearing, and requires medication to keep her legs stable enough to make it down the steps to potty.
I was fiddling in the kitchen, putting out her medication, the garage door opener, towels for accidents, and leaving a collection of favorite snacks and coffee pods by the fridge for Dad’s evening snack and morning pick-me-up.
It was dusk, evening settling in, and out my kitchen window, I could see our neighbors’ dog lying lazily in their back yard, having her last potty break for the night.
I saw something move and had to squint to see it. I walked away from the window and outside onto the deck.
The swing on their play set was swinging, all by itself. The one next to it hung perfectly still.
The dog lay in the yard and no breeze disquieted the evening air.
It continued to swing at an even pace. Back and forth. Back and forth.
I went inside and grabbed my phone. I looked out the kitchen window and saw the swing. Back and forth. Back and forth, keeping pace for several minutes.
I hear you, Baby. Thank you for wishing us a safe and happy vacation. We love you, too.