The dog died at the beginning of December.

There was an accident. It was quite sudden. On the Monday she was fine. On the Thursday she died.

I am heartbroken. Now over the initial shock of it all, I am left living without a dog. There is a silence in the house, no not a silence, an absence of sound, a gap in the very air. I fill the quiet with music, but it is not the same.

I’m not going for my daily walk. Walking without a dog feels weird, like I am missing a limb. The weather has been awful and at times I have guiltily been grateful not to have to brave the storms to take her for a wee, but I miss being outside. I am missing the turning of the seasons, the daily shift of light on the horizon, and the wax and wane of the river.  A friend offers her dog to come for a walk, but I don’t want her dog. I want mine. I feel foolish and churlish turning her down, not having the words to explain.

The house is filthy. I swear my husband and I must eat with our mouths open, spitting food all over the house. There are crumbs everywhere without a little scavenger to hoover them up. I tidied her leads away and washed up the dog bowls but for weeks I could not move her box of toys. They sat behind the chair, waiting to be played with until I took the Christmas tree down, then, full of needles, I sorted them to be put into the shed.

Her bed sat in my bedroom until last week, that dog bed smell lingering on the air, growing stale.

They take up so much room in your life, – dogs. And not just with all their stuff. Your days are set around their needs. Feeding, walking, time for a fuss and a play. I miss the weight of her against my leg as I sit here and write. I miss her funny sleep poses, so relaxed and carefree, such a change from the scared, damaged little pup that came to live with us three years ago.

I was broken when we lost our dog, Annie, a Welsh Collie we had shared our lives with for 15 years. I am broken again losing Luna.

We have decided not to think about getting a dog for a year. My husband has already hinted that, though he misses Luna, he is enjoying a life free of responsibility. I can’t reply. I don’t want to say I will never have another dog, will never have that love and companionship again. But I am not ready for another dog. I still want my dog, Luna Pond, named so i could say, ‘Come along, Pond!’ Making me laugh with glee everytime.

How strange, to be so broken by a dog.

But not strange at all.

Dog owners know. For all their annoying, demanding, funny little quirks, dogs fill your days with fun and love and laughter. And dog hair and poo. Who could not miss this?

I am off to practice going for a walk alone.

I need to post a letter, a good enough reason to go out into the cold.