Today was the first day waking up without Luca.
Last night, I carried his collar to bed with me. I still needed his presence to be held within the pack. And this morning, we all awoke to a new day. Lizzie slept on one of Luca’s beds part of the night, but when I woke up, she nosed into bed, ears back, a silky sleek black seal-shape between Erik and I.
We had a normal morning. Coffee. Scone. Dog breakfast. Outside. Erik and I went to an estate sale. And as we left, for the first time, we did not end our litany “Luca’s in charge!” Instead, we told Lizzie “Be good. Watch the house. Be a good grown up girl.”
The estate sale was a nice little adventure. There were many ships in bottles, and the Samsonite boarding bag that matches my roller luggage for literally $1.
Erik and I stopped by Costco, too. We needed wet cat food. I talked him through how I plan to shift Lizzie’s diet, away from the current cocktail of senior dog food and GSD-specific food. And I cried in the dog food aisle at Costco.
Home, Lizzie was full of energy, delighted to see us. She’d been responsible in our absence; no crimes detected. It was clear she needed excercise, and after some discussion, we decided to go to the dog bar. Erik and I were both still sore and tired in our bodies, and didn’t quite feel up for a full dog park adventure, though it was a beautiful day. I wanted to face the place Luca fell sooner rather than later, and did not want to calcify it into A Thing. The sooner, the more normal.
Alas, it was early in the afternoon so the dog bar was deserted, but for Erik, Lizzie, myself, and the owner. We chatted a bit. She expressed condolences. I expressed how very much it was not her or anyone’s fault; it equally could’ve happened in our own back yard.
And Erik and I sat and enjoyed the warm afternoon. Lizzie fetched, a little. She doesn’t have the unending drive for it Luca did, of course. She will fetch about three times, and then lay down a little ways away from you. It always feels a little like she’s admonishing me for being irresponsible. Like “Well, you threw this away three times! That’s a pattern! Can’t trust you with this responsibility!”
After a few fetches, she just lay down on my foot. I tried to think if she’d done that here before, and I can’t think that she did. Before, even if it was just us, Luca was here. She’d jump on him, lightly biting his ears. (Her favorite way of showing him affection!)
But now, she’s not the little sister, the pestering puppy anymore. She’s a grown-up dog with her people.
There were a few brief rounds of fetch. It was great watching Lizzie run, easy in her body. I realized how much tension I’d grown to carry about Luca’s infirmity: always watching for a stumble, signs of exhaustion, or the red of a scraped knuckle. But Lizzie was just joyful, and fluid.
I wanted to lay down where Luca fell, face first in the ground where he took his last steps. But, it is AstroTurf at a dog park, and while poetic, it would be so so gross. So I sat for a while, with my feet planted there, feeling the echoes.
We are all so quick to tire these days. Back home, Lizzie and I fell into an afternoon nap together. I wound my fingers in her ruff, and wished it was Luca’s dense, rough coat instead of her own fine silky threads.
Then, Erik and I had reservations at L’s, for my makeup birthday dinner. We’d debated cancelling, but life had to continue on, and Lawrence planned a comfort-food special for us.
I wore the dress and jewelry I’d bought for my 40th, but they both arrived a day late. We again admonished Lizzie to be a good girl without us, and went to dinner. It was, as always, lovely.
And after, Erik suggested going to the Sunken Garden. How perfect! Erik and I hadn’t yet been to see this year’s design, and it was a special place for Kaiya and I.
It was wonderful. Beautiful plants in golden hour sunlight. The air was warm honey of summer, and just the slightest whisper of the coming turn to fall. The garden is a little past the prime — a little wilder and more unruly. The carefully planted images have long grown to obscurity. It was full of families, taking walks. Photo shoots. People walking their dogs. Many couples, like Erik and I, on a romantic walk. A place full of life.
It was good, to be there, participating in life, remembering the grief of the last dog I said goodbye to. My heart years to have Luca with me, hale and hearty. But I could not have made his life and death any better than it was. May I go, at home, surrounded by loved ones, still fundamentally myself.
Thus, Luca is gone, like Kaiya is gone. And, like Kaiya, my grief will fade to background, as I turn to delight in the dog in front of me.
Home, to Lizzie. I can be stricter with her at the doorway, now. No attempting to juggle two dogs and their excitement, i can simply insist she sit before I cross the threshold. But oh, when it is time for greetings, she wiggled and pressed against my legs far harder than usual.
Today was the day it needed to be.
I miss Luca. I loved him, endlessly. I will continue to love him, endlessly.
And life must move on, and there will be new joys. For a while, threads of grief are braided in, but the more often you highlight them, the quicker they fade.
And you move forward from stability. Death simply cannot unmake you. You have to find a way to love them fully and still be normal.
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