The Pack

I am carefully observing and watching Annie Oakley and Willa.  I've said it many times, that dogs grieve and sense loss as much and maybe more than humans.

Sage was the pack leader, showing both Annie Oakley and Willa just how to be a lab (of course, Annie Oakley also marches to her own Milk Bone but that is another story).

It is clear to me, a week since Sage's death, that the two girls are still mourning.  This morning, each of them came to me, seeking lots of attention.  They tend to hang more closely together than they had before.  The dynamic has altered.

They are happy, no doubt about that.  But they feel loss.

It's still sad at Sage's home.

Murphy's Day.

It's Been a Week

It has been a long long week.  And a week since Sage died.

I can not stop walking downstairs and saying "good morning" Sage when I get up.  I can not stop looking at her beds, wondering where she is.  I can not stop listening for her, worrying about her.

It's been a week.

Murphy's Day.

The Front Yard

As we all age, small things become important, I think.  For Sage, as she got older and her hind legs didn't want runs or hikes, one thing she absolutely adored was running from the back yard into the front yard.

There were a number of reasons she did this.  One was to find a tennis ball I may have thrown over the fence while playing with Willa or Annie.  Another was to just hang out if I finally got around to gardening.

Sage could always be trusted to hang out in the front yard, that is after a HUGE issue when she was a puppy and left by someone out of in back without checking the gate...and I get a call that Sage is in the street chasing a plastic bottle...

But after that, she was perfect in the front yard.

And sometimes, actually, a lot of times, I would intentionally throw the tennis ball over the fence because she so loved running into the front and feeling important finding the tennis ball.  It was her moment.

I've been out in back several days now, throwing tennis balls.  And once, one went over the fence.  Willa, who was a keen observer of Sage, bolted for the gate, whimpered to be let out, and ran for the tennis ball.  Sage left a legacy.

The front yard.  Sometimes it really is a small thing that is important.

Murphy's Day.

Tenderness

As dogs age there is a certain tenderness.  Sage was always a sweet girl, but in her last half of the year, we both shared a certain tenderness.  Every morning I would walk her in the neighborhood, going out the front door before it was light, walking down the street sharing our impressions of the day.  On occasion, we would run into friends who would greet Sage...as Sharon called her, the Grand Dame of Ballard....and she would wag her tail and do her little dance.

Then I began feeding her by hand.  I would sit on the floor, gather a scoop of food in my hand, and she would eat, coming back for more and more until her bowl was empty and I would sigh, knowing she was ok for another day.

I am so grateful for those moments, for that time together.  She got all of my love, focused on her and she continued to give me all of her love.

Tenderness is a two way street with labs.

Murphy's Day.

Routines

I get up early.  Or it seems early to me.

And in the past year, instead of having Sage go with the two younger labs, I would walk her around the neighborhood before I went for my run.

This morning, I got up early, came downstairs, and said "Good morning Sage," to an empty bed.  And now, now I sit here wondering what I should do.

There is a very large hole in our lives.  Over the weekend, both Annie Oakley and Willa were subdues, searching every place Sage would normally hang out.  She was the leader of our pack.

I am thrilled that I had those walking moments with Sage.  It was our time together, alone.  We would explore the yards, look at stars, listen to the wind, pick up the newspaper.  It was our routine of love.

Murphy's Day.

Sweet Baby Sage

Writing this is hard.

As I came downstairs this morning, I listened for her.  And she was gone.

We have been together, roaming the world, finding perfect fishing spots, taking hikes to gorgeous alpine lakes, sitting on the back porch watching the moon rise, meeting friends and neighbors on walks to the bluff...for twelve years.  And this morning, Sweet Baby Sage is no longer here.

I started this blog to write about Murphy, Sage's older sister.  It was Sage who stayed by my side every day after Murphy died, getting me out of bed to walk, then to run, again.  Last night, Willa slept tucked beside me, not letting an inch get between us.  Annie Oakley played night watchman, sleeping beside the bed, then in the crook of the stairs.  This house feels heavy with sadness and sorrow.  And so I write again.

I shall miss you more than ever Sage.

Murphy's Day.

Weekends in the City

Stayed in the city this weekend.

We had several projects to finish.  But it is always hard to stay in the city.  Not as much fun as romping in the fields, listening to the hawks, and rolling (particularly Annie Oakley) in the snow.

But, projects are finished and Willa got to watch her Denver Broncos (she was born in a suburb of Denver) win the Super Bowl.

Should out to the great Subaru ad...

Murphy's Day.