It's a bit weird, and sad

I was wondering how it would be walking into the "Macadamia Ranch" after Caesar died.

When Andrew, Livie, and I were driving here on Saturday, I was debating whether to remind Livie, but ended up not saying anything.

As soon as we pulled into the driveway and parked, Livie said, "Where's Caesar?" I think she became accustomed to seeing him in the yard, walking to the edge of the driveway to "greet" us upon arrival.

I became a bit sad and teary-eyed as soon as she asked. I said, "Remember what I told you about Caesar?" I saw the light-bulb go on above her head, as I went on, "Remember he died because his body couldn't work anymore? So he went to Heaven to keep Sir Rafa and Uncle Hector company?"

She smiled and said, "Yes, I remember now. I just forgot for a minute. . . . He had a good life."

I almost burst into tears!

Anyway, it's been weird being here without Caesar.

My parents' house has this buzzer thing that alerts anyone at home when a car is driving either in or out of the driveway. Usually when he'd hear the buzzer, he'd sit in the hallway leading from the garage to the kitchen, as a sort of "welcome committee."

Well, of course, he wasn't there waiting. I knew he wouldn't be, but I looked for him, nevertheless.

Also, I will be walking from one room to another and although I know he's gone, I almost expect him in one of his usual spots - like in the far corner of the dining room, in the office in front of the windows where the bird feeder is (he liked watching the birds, squirrels, and deer that came by to eat). Or maybe in the kitchen waiting for a scrap to "accidentally" fall on the floor. Or even in what I always called "Caesar's room" where his water bowl was, and where he was fed twice a day. Or sometimes he'd sleep underneath the dining room table or in that little hallway leading from the garage.

Then last night, Andrew made microwave popcorn.

Typically, Caesar would do just about anything for some popcorn, even navigating the steps that were so hard on him and his back and hips in his old age - he couldn't climb them without help, but somehow he was able to get down, slowly and with pain.

So when Andrew made popcorn last night I felt a pang, because you-know-who wouldn't be clacking his nails on the wood floor, trailing Andrew and that bag of salty, buttery "gold" nuggets.

And then today, I found a sympathy card from Caesar's vet, the pre-printed part saying "We know how much a heart can ache for a lost friend. Please know that our thoughts are with you."

What got me teary was the personal note the vet wrote - "We all lost a friend yesterday. Memories of Caesar will be with us forever. - Dr. Foster."

We sure did lose a friend, a wonderful friend.

This is his actual paw print with "Caesar" imprinted above it. I guess they'd done this before his body was cremated. The ashes of each dog (both Caesar and his older sibling, Foxy), by the way, were put in a sealed bag, and then into its own sealed wooden box. There's a slot in the front of each box for a 4x6 photo of the pet. Anyway, I thought the paw print was a special touch (for some reason it wasn't done for Foxy).