I still turn too fast

 I still turn too fast…

Because some part of me still believes you are right behind me.
I hear the smallest sound in the hallway, and my heart reacts before my mind can catch up. I turn, expecting to see your sleepy face… your ears lifted… your tail tapping against the wall because I finally noticed you.
But there is nothing there.
Just the quiet.
Just the empty space where you used to stand.
You followed me everywhere. To the kitchen. To the bathroom. From one room to another, even when I was only gone for a few seconds. I used to laugh and ask why you had to come with me every single time.
Now I would give anything to hear those paws behind me again.
Sometimes I still step carefully around the place where you used to sleep. I still look down before moving my chair. I still leave room beside me without thinking.
My body remembers you.
It remembers the weight of your head against my leg. The warmth of your fur beneath my hand. The soft sound of your breathing when the whole house had gone to sleep.
Grief is strange like that.
It teaches your heart that someone is gone…
But it takes much longer to teach your habits.
So I keep turning.
At the front door.
Beside the couch.
In the middle of the night when I think I heard your collar move.
And for one tiny second, before reality returns, you are still here.
Maybe that second is not foolish.
Maybe love leaves an echo behind.
Maybe the reason I still feel you following me is because some bonds do not end when a heartbeat stops. Maybe your paws no longer touch this floor, but your love still walks beside me… quiet, faithful, and close.
I hope somewhere beyond the clouds, you still turn to look for me too.
I hope you are running through a warm meadow where nothing hurts, carrying the same joyful heart you gave me every day. And when my time comes, I believe I will hear those familiar paws rushing toward me before I even see you.
Until then, I may keep turning too fast.
I may keep hoping for one more glimpse.
Because you were never just behind me.
You were part of me.
And love like that does not disappear.
It simply learns how to follow from somewhere we cannot yet see.