I know nothing is any "better" and your grief  only deepens  at first.  You feelmlike you're  going crazy with a seemingly  never ending sadness. 

Martha (Oaktown Pack) shared this poem with me  when my Happy Hannah went to the Bridge

Oh, and I wanted to add that, when I took that picture of the candle for Jack, many of your tripawd family who met Jack last Spring were here  with me for a visit.  At  first rhey wanted to take a picture with all of us in it to show our love and support.  I had to remind them that DC Jack liked her space and would not want a crowd intruding on her light💖💖💖💖💖  What a special  gal!

The poem didn't  copy...trying again.

Yeah, tne picture Clare posted says all that needs to be said about the bond you shared.  And I remember  how so attentive was Nabil was with Jack as ypu got to wander around a bit  and "socialize".  Jaaxk wa soooo content ro be with her hoomas.  She absolutely  showed that she felt secure and really didn't  care too much about anything  going on around her.  ❤

Things to do after your dog has died

Sweep the floor

Look out the window

Pant

Make a cup of tea and some toast

But then not eat them

Change the sheets on the bed

Try to sing

Start to cry

Forget what day it is

Stumble into a corner of the floor and hold your knees tightly

Keen

Pull yourself together

Make another cup of tea and this time drink it

Look out a different window

Stare at that spot on the floor where your dog used to stretch out, languid and happy, his paws twitching as he raced across sleep meadows and into dream ravines filled with moss and ferns and the scent of foxes

Look for the Kleenex

Use toilet paper instead

Wander around the house, your heart like a damned anvil in your chest

Heat up leftovers

Push them around the plate before leaving the entire thing in the sink

Look for what is not there

Hear things

Feel the forgotten fur beneath your fingertips

Feel the forgetting begin

Hold a memory, any memory, bright and shining, soft and sad, smelling of wet fur and leaves, with a whisker there and muddy paw prints left on the stairs, of a walk of a hike of a trip to the park with a treat and a bone and a belly rub snacks stolen off the counter and tug of war and the squeaky toy a glance of complicity in play with your hand on head with tail wagging and breath misting in the morning light or the moon over the trees while an owl croons ears are pricked and nose to the ground sniffing, sniffing, sniffing following the invisible trail to its joyful finding

Put on your pajamas

Turn around three times before you curl up by the rope toy and find yourself chasing the echo of a bark into a night that will never end

Grow a tail

       Catherine Young