Perfect Home

The farm was perfectly balanced. All the animals that lived in the house brought joy, love and a wonderful balance to our home.

Poco is our guardian. Our stoic male role model who still dreams of the marine corp that he’s now retired. Poco can clean a rifle, fetch a ball and take you down in a knife fight. He’ll also defend his home and all those who reside inside. He loves with all his heart, but please don’t ever point it out. He’s our soldier, defender and protector. You can feel safe knowing Poco is on duty.

Super Taz is our watcher and our hunter. Nary a stray leaf passes the lawn without her knowledge. A frog does not spawn, hop or swim without her permission. She’ll out run you, out bark you and own you in a matter of minutes. She’s loud, crass and defiant. She loves with all her heart and is not ashamed to be exactly who she is: a warrior. Taz also gives great kisses and cuddles. She’s not shy about her passions.

Gizmo was our lover. He filled the house with nothing but joy and laughter. He would big bear fight with Taz, but that was the extent of his ire. Gizmo was our romantic, our cuddler, our sweet and peaceful boy. Gizmo hated the rain, wet grass and loud noises. Gizmo would demand you stop playing on the computer and play with him. He would insist on attention with his head on your shoulder he’d roll on his side to accept all kinds of bell rubs. Gizmo was an expert at begging for cookies, food and meals. I’m certain Taz and Poco would send Gizmo in to beg for cookies and I never said no. He was my cookie monster.

My balanced triangle is missing a side. My home is missing it’s love. My life is broken and it’s so hard to adjust. I don’t know how to right this wrong. I don’t know how to find my love again? There is something obviously absent in my home. There is a soul missing at roll call. There is a heartbeat that isn’t beating anymore.

The love has been replaced by grief. There is a cloud that has settled over this farm and without the love to push it off I fear it may stay dark for a long long time.

It will be a week today when the cloud settled over the farm, when a light went out, a soul lost and our love was lost. I’m still waiting for it to get easier. I’m still waiting for tomorrow, but how to go forward without love?

I turned the radio off in the kitchen because it kept playing that song that played the night Gizmo died and I’d remember holding my limp puppy in my arms and watching my love die. I can’t seem to get to the tomorrow where things get better. I can’t seem to find the path that heals.
There is no more kitchen dancing at the farm. There is no daily Gizmo duet before dinner. There are no morning tummy tickles or afternoon games of rattle.
Gizmo had a particular way of cuddling with his head on my shoulder and his body across my chest with his belly exposed for rubbing. We’d sit in the evening with his nose in my ear and my hand on his belly until he snored and woke himself up. I’d laugh.
He brought so much laughter into my life. He was all the things in this world that are good and loving and genuine. 

Missing you more than I can say my Gizmos.

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