Goodbye, Vita Louise

She came to me in a dream last night. She rolled over, got on her feet, did a play bow and one of her weird little howls that always made me laugh. 

Then she ran off, and I knew I couldn’t follow. I woke up and knew she was gone. 

You were a terrible dog. Willful, disobedient, vain and dramatic. You ran off frequently, jumped into the arms of strangers with disturbing ease, and were occasionally vindictive with your bowel movements.

But you always came back to us. Whenever we were sad or sick or stressed, you were there for us, right to the very end. 

Thank you, Vita, for giving me that last little moment with you before you left; I’m so sorry I couldn’t have been there for you more, near the end. 

We will all miss you terribly. The house is already so quiet without you.

Her name meant life, and she was full of it. 

Death is before me today: 

  like the recovery of a sick man, 

  like going forth into a garden after sickness.

Death is before me today: 

  like the odor of myrrh,

  like sitting under a sail in a good wind.

Death is before me today: 

  like the course of a stream;

  like the return of a man from the war-galley to his house.

Death is before me today:

  like the home that a man longs to see,

  after years spent as a captive.

https://www.consolatio.com/2009/06/ancient-egyptian-death-is-before-me-today.html