My heart is broken. Oh, it's been broke many times before, and it will mend itself back slowly. For right now, though, I'm mourning the loss of our beloved dog, Brewster.
We had him since the day he was born, July 13, 1997. His mom, our first dog, Bessie, had 13 puppies that day and overnight. Eight of the puppies survived, and I talked Adam into keeping one of her puppies. We named him Brewster, starting a theme for naming our dogs "B" names, because we wanted something to recognize Cape Cod, where we met and got married, and Brewster was the best name for a dog - thanks, Lauren, for the suggestion.
Brewster was a good dog. There's no two ways about it, he was just a damn good dog. He was humongous, no doubt, but a gentle giant. He wasn't a barker or digger or anything else bad like that. He was loyal and always happy to see us. He was the one dog that actually might have loved me as much as he loved Adam. He showed no preferences and was always happy.
I don't want to go into how it all went down on Friday. I don't want to dwell on his death, because it just doesn't feel like the right thing to do. I want to celebrate his life, and the joy and love he gave to use for almost 12 years.
His presence is very much missed in the Nash house. I still look for him when I come home, or in the mornings. I forget he's not here anymore.
He may not be physically here, but he's forever in my heart. I miss you, Brewster, and I love you. I know you and Bessie will be there in many, many years, when it's my time. Until then, rest in peace big guy.