The Last Gift

I can feel the softness of my blanket under me, the one that smells like sunshine and you. The house is quiet. The curtains move with the breeze, and I can hear the birds outside, singing like they always do. This is where I belong. Home. With you.

My body is tired now. It does not want to listen to me anymore. But my eyes can still find you, and they do. I want you to know something before I leave. I try to lift my head, to move my mouth, to form the words, but I know you can already hear me. Thank you.

Thank you for choosing me, when you could have chosen another. Thank you for every walk, even when you were tired. Thank you for every belly rub, every silly nickname, every story you told me like I was your closest friend. I was.

Thank you for letting me sleep at your feet, for slipping me food when you thought no one saw, for making storms less frightening because you were near. Thank you for bringing me here, to this moment, in the only place I ever wanted to be. Home. With you.

The kind person kneels nearby, speaking softly, but my focus is only on you. I am not afraid. I do not feel alone. You are holding me, and that makes everything bearable. My last thoughts are not about pain. They are about you, and the life you gave me.

Do not be sad for too long. I am not really gone. You will find me in the warmth of the sun on your face, in the creak of the floor where I used to lie, in the joyful bark of a stranger’s dog. Love does not die. It waits.

If I could choose again, I would choose you in every lifetime. You were my best friend, my family, my whole world. My tail wagged because of you. My heart was full because of you. You made me the luckiest dog alive.

I am closing my eyes now, but do not think of this as goodbye. It is only see you later. Because true love always finds its way back to you.

Visit the Facebook site: Stories, Past, Present, and Future — to read this story, and explore more https://storiespastpresentandfuture.blog