One Last Car Ride

 ... I can't buy pickles.  I've tried over and over to buy them and every time I do I just tear up and start t cry.  It would almost be funny if it weren't so damned constant and embarrassing.  

Moxie's favourite snack was pickles.  And pizza.  But pickles, all day every day she would get the drool bubbles and make a mess on the floor as she watched the jar being opened.  Not sure why she liked them so much but it was something she enjoyed from pretty much the start of our adventures together.  So.  

Now I can't buy pickles, I just miss her too much in those moments, I guess.  

Today is one year.  One year without her snorty breaths, velociraptor nails clacking across the floor, her farting to help her get up on the couch.  It was a thing, truly.   

The silence was the hardest, especially living in that house, the one I bought so I could have my own dog.  My 170,000$ dog.   Now I own a new place with a new type of silence, but I still miss Mox every day.  I had a vivid dream of her the other night and it was the most banal and 'everyday' dream of sitting on the couch with her and watching tv together.  I woke up happy and sad.  Happy for the brief visit and sad for the loss.  She truly was the goodest girl.  

I've spent the past week driving out to various places that she loved, spreading her ashes around in those spots, thinking about the good times.  West Hawk Lake, Hunt Lake Trail, St Laurent, Assiniboine Park, the house around the front steps where she liked to be a nosy old lady and police the neighbourhood.  

She was always there for me.  On her final day I am so glad(sad) that I was there for her like she'd always been for me.  I held her in my arms the whole time, till she was gone.  I hope and believe she was comforted by that.  

Now I sit in this chair, in this new place far removed from that life, that world, that is gone forever except in my heart and I am sad.  I miss my dog.