As I say, my sense is that Bella is alive, but she is not here with me right now, in the chair by the computer, pushing her nose under my hand to let me know it is time to pet her. I put on some black pants decorated with Bella's silky fur. I feel wrapped in her comfort.
I also apologize to her for suggesting that a dog has anything to equal a cat.
I remember this poem by Robinson Jeffers and place it here.
The Housedog's Grave
by Robinson Jeffers
I've changed my ways a little, I can no longer run with you in the evenings
along the shore, except in a kind of dream, and you, if you dream a little,
you see me there. So leave a while the paw marks on the front door, where
I used to scratch to come in or go out, and you'd soon answer, leave on the
kitchen floor the marks of my drinking pan.
I cannot lie by your fire all evening, on the warm stone, nor yet at the foot
of your bed, no, all the night through, I lie alone. But your kind thought
has laid me less than 6 feet outside your window, where firelight so often
plays, and where you sit to read, and, I fear, often grieving for me - every
night your lamplight lies on my place.
You, Man and Woman, live so long, it is hard to think of you ever dying!
A little dog would get tired, living so long. I hope that when you are lying
under the ground like me, your lives will appear as good and joyful as mine.
No, dears, that's too much hope... you have not been as well cared for as I
have been, and never knew the passionate, undivided fidelities I knew.
Your minds are perhaps too active, too many sided, but to me you were true.
You were never Masters, but Friends. I was your Friend. Deep love endures
to the end and long past the end... If this is my end, I am not lonely. I am not
afraid. I am still yours.