With Constance’s things all out of the house, I thought my somber trips to the Goodwill donation center were behind me. It was with reverence that I took Otis’ dog bed, dishes, coat, and other belongings to Goodwill. I know he’s happily settled with Laurel in Portland. He doesn’t need, nor did he ever really need, the dog boots we bought him.
I miss his happy face greeting me when I get home. I miss him investigating noises so I don’t have to. I miss the enthusiastic way he greeted me each morning. I miss how he could tell between the good postal carrier (i.e., the one that brings dog bones) from the bad postal carrier (i.e., the one that came only bearing mail). Above all, I miss how happy he made Constance.