This morning’s air was crisp yet I didn’t wear my jacket, just short sleeves and jeans with tennis shoes. The trees have been littering the ground for a few weeks now so walking along the path by the lake, I was noisily crunching along, shovel under my arm, box clutched tightly to my chest. Chico died last night about 10 PM. Lori held him for a bit, then wrapped him in his blankets and put him in the box. Earlier in the day there was a cheesecake party with all three of her daughters coming to pay their last respects. Today is actually Taylor’s birthday but yesterday was for saying goodbye to Chico.
I walked this morning until I found the perfect spot. The path took a wide turn and in the middle was all grass, with earth soft enough for my shovel to go in. I dug it fairly deep for a little guy. The thought of something digging him up makes my heart jump in my chest and my face leaks even now. I put him in the hole, wrapped in his softest blankets and then put a heavy plastic container down over him so the dirt couldn’t touch him and make him cold. Then I covered him as quickly as I could, stamping the earth down tight and then I walked the lake shore picking up big stones and completely covering his grave two or three stones deep. I dare something to move them.
I brought two of the stones home with me so that his mom could have a piece of his final resting place. I know he’s happy right now, probably full of bacon in his dreams, beside the lake, in the warm sun. Lots of lady dogs will be walking past him on a daily basis so that should make him smile.
The first time I met him, he tried to eat me up; then later I gave him two hot dogs and we were okay after that. Not friendly, but okay. I might have bitched about him but I’m a lot of bluff and bluster and my heart is breaking right now. RIP Chico.