My little dog, Latte, died on Saturday, January 10. I kind of knew things were going that way as Mom and her declined together. Latte was known as mini-me as she had my grumpy personality and loved to eat more than anything. She lived almost fifteen years and I miss her terribly. No worries about her opening the cupboard door to get at the trash, no worries about leaving the bathroom door slightly ajar and having her push her way in. No worries about coming home to pee or throw up and going through gallons of Clorox. I miss her so much. We were joined at the hip.
This is a little pouch I made for her to take on her journey.
From my sweet cousin, Sayuri:
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there,
I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am a diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am autumn's gentle rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star
That shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave
I am not there
I did not die.