There was a sense of emptiness in the house this morning.
Even the other three dogs felt it.
Pokie normally watches me weave from a small dog bed under the table in the studio. She was the only dog that seemed to enjoy the sound of the constant slamming of the shafts on my table looms while I wove taquete. I kept looking down at the bed expecting to see her looking up at me. But I could only see the memory of her. When I move from room to room I can still imagine her little feet pattering behind me. She would follow me everywhere.
Pokie had a good life with us. She was a dog rescued from a bad situation and was a very sick when we met her. She was a rescue dog of unknown age with heart problems and a hernia. The vet thought she would live perhaps six months or so. Every dog deserves some special time so we adopted her. We used to say she was in 'pre-heaven' while staying with us. And for over two and a half years she brought us great joy.
I, and the rest of the pack will miss her.