You have "always" been here, at least from the view point of our kids who grew up with you.
And now, suddenly and unexpectedly, you are not.
You are not here to wake them up by licking their faces or jumping on their beds. You are no longer here to play with them, something both you and they loved.
All our shoes will from now on be where we put them. No longer gathered, unharmed, in your basket along with other things you decided to carry around.
You are no longer here to walk these long lovely walks, without pulling, enjoying the smells, the surroundings and our time together.
You will no longer steal the food from the cats or from us and the newly bought bag of dog food will never be eaten by you. We will no longer see you walking around with your food bowl, sometimes dropping it in the middle of the stairs so it will loudly go cling-clang all the way down.
You are not here to push around the furniture by stroking yourself against it when you wake up or when you are wet. The most comfortable arm chair will no longer be occupied by you, with all paws up in the air. At times snoring in a loud but yet cute way.
When I sit at the desk you will no longer come pushing, asking me to move the chair so you can squeeze in and lay at my feet. You will no longer put your nose between our legs so we can scratch you properly on the neck.
I will no longer brush your fur, your teeth or cut your claws, all of which you accepted easily, making others surprised about how kind you were.
Of you course you were kind. You are the one who raised our kids, our cats and our youngest dog Lola who will not know how to behave without you. You did it because you loved it. You loved playing with the kids in the snow, with balls and with pine cones, you loved running with them and cover them with kisses when they were on the ground. You were their best friend, and they were yours. Oh, how you loved them.
You showed many kids and grown-ups who were afraid or hesitant around dogs, that dogs, also rather big ones, can be kind and careful. Your smiling face could always convince the hesitant ones.
You have been with us on adventures, taking on the leadership role of the animals in the family. Now you are no longer here to protect the cats from other cats or from dogs. You will no longer lie on the stairs to the house or in the garden, protecting our property.
We will no longer have our bed sheets all entangled after you make your nest or after you go lying on your back and curl yourself all over the bed, doing "krulle-krull". We will no longer see you sit under your apple-tree, like Ferdinand under his cork oak, and just enjoy your life.
You have always been here, and now that you are not, the void is enormous, as is the pain. It is hard for us to eat, to sleep, even to breath.
Our pain and our loss is great since our love for you, and yours for us, is great. I am grateful you knew how much we loved you, grateful for every single day we have had together.
Jaspis. Our grisebjörn, gossegris and Jaspepas. You are no longer here, yet you always will be.
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