White Dog was quietly coaching the rest of the White Dog Army in the hallway. "Remember this is going to be a rough day for momma," she told them. "So we must be extra kind and be sure we give her LOTS of love."
She was right. I woke with my hand dangling over the edge of the bed, like I had a week ago. Except then Ferguson's soft furs and harness reassured me. Today was one week since he left us and my hand hung in the air.
I took a deep breath and spoke into the Universe. "Ferguson, I am going to be brave today. Please walk beside me and keep me focused on all that is full of light and love. I will try not to mourn but to take comfort in feeling your spirit. I love you, always."
Just as I finished mentally putting on my shield and was preparing to rise, the phone rang. Steve must have been outside so I reached over and grabbed the handset.
It was Best Friends, the pet cemetery, calling to let us know Ferguson's paw print was ready to come home.