Today was one week since we had Fayth put to sleep. The house has been so quiet, especially at night.
She would start barking every time she heard us arrive home, only stopping when we got to the gate. Some evenings she would not start barking immediately and those were the evenings I got worried that something had happened while we were out. Once we were in bed, she’d be sleeping and I would fall asleep, listening to her snoring. Funny thing was, I could sleep through Fayth’s snoring, but not Marc’s.
I had pretty much accepted that she was gone and was not coming back. Until this morning, when I remembered that this was the day we were to fetch her ashes. Strangely enough, it did not hit me until I arrived at work. I think that was when I looked at the clock on the dashboard and thought, What were we doing last week? … I had probably been giving Fayth breakfast, that one last time.
It was hard getting through the day without crying. I had so much work to do, but I still found myself watching the clock. Finally, at lunch time, I just had to release some of the tension and sat at my desk and cried a little. If anyone noticed, they did not say anything. And thankfully, the phone remained quiet until I felt better.
Leaving work and going to the vet made me cry again. Seeing Marc coming out with the small wooden box in his hand was the worst.
It is now on the shelf above the TV. It will probably be the last thing I look at before I leave for work tomorrow. Just as her check chain and collar are the last things I look at before I fall asleep at night. I still miss her.