Our beloved pack leader Liz crossed the Rainbow Bridge just over a week ago. Sophie and I are still sad, as are the Dog 'Rents, but we are doing our best to close up the hole in our heart and the hole in our pack by lots of togetherness.
DogMother has been getting us out before the Maryland August heat and humidity grips the day, just after sunrise, for a good 2-mile walk. Liz hadn't been able to do that in a while. Then it's time for breakfast and a snooze on the cool tile of the screened porch. Bliss.
I looked for Liz a few times, but I understand these things better than the DogParents do sometimes. It was her time, and she was hurting. Sophie and I could sense it, which is why one of us always slept near her or with her. Liz is not here anymore, but that doesn't mean she's not somewhere we can't find her. If that makes sense.
As for you, dachshund-boy, I am not cute nor have ever claimed to be cute. I am a rugged, brawny hunk o' manly boxerboy. My jowls and wrinkles convey my gravitas, while my rippling shiny muscles drive my elegant limbs with precision. We two are different, but I bet we could have a nice game together. Chase might be off the table...