Well, I feel it must be said.

When someone loses a loved pet,

the tendency is to cutify, beyond anthropomorphization -

"that damned" dog becomes the "dear darling puppy",

and instead of "Get him out of here!" or 

"Look at what your (damned) dog did!"

you find yourself taking an extra step to avoid tripping on him

but he's not there.

You miss it then,

the constant presence,

the shadow dogging your footsteps,

stepping barefoot on the soggy chew toys.

My dog would wake me up at 3 a.m.

pacing in the hallway, nails clicking -

back and forth, back and forth.

In the rush of dinner preparations and cleanup

frequently I forgot to feed him

and he would come and stand in front of me,

and look

and sigh

until I finally put it together and got his dinner.

On walks he had to sniff and pee. Every vertical object.

Including, on one memorable occasion, another dog.

In his later days he started to lick everything he sniffed.

Eww.

Having a pet can be damned annoying.

But I do have to say, even so,

that this was a very, very nice guy. 

Stout-hearted, gallant, and courageous to the point of idiocy,

His was a dear and gentle soul.

Letting him go when he needed to 

was one of the most difficult things to do.

I miss him. It hurts.

But I'm grateful for the years he shared with us,

and I hope with all my heart that there really is a doggy heaven

with treats and things to sniff and lots of tall objects to pee on.

Rest in peace, Jackson.

You were loved.