I still catch myself looking for you

 I still catch myself looking for you—in the corners of rooms, in the rustle of blankets, in the sound of my own heartbeat. The truth is, I’ll probably always look for you.

You were more than my dog. You were my constant, my comfort, the quiet companion who understood me without needing words. Losing you didn’t just leave an empty spot on the bed—it left a space in time itself.

But even through the ache, I feel something deeper than loss: I feel your love. It lingers like sunlight through clouds, gentle and warm.

I imagine you now, healthy and free, running through meadows that never end. I can almost hear your paws in the grass and see your tail wagging as you look back, waiting. And when I picture the day we’ll meet again, it doesn’t feel like an ending—it feels like coming home.

So I’ll carry your memory like a lantern through every dark night. And when my journey here is done, I’ll follow its glow until I see you standing there—eyes bright, tail wagging, love shining like it never left.

Not goodbye.
Just until we meet again.