It was sunny and cool on Wednesday, the perfect day for a sheltie-girl. Penny and I were walking through the back yard, she focused on her beloved birds flitting among the feeders near the house, me remembering, as I often do when I’m in the back yard, Katie’s last moments there. 

I remembered walking with Katie into the house when the vet arrived. I never thought, in the moment, that she and I would never walk into the house together again. I remember walking with her, the vet and my husband, through the backyard to a pretty place under the birch trees, the sky blue like it was yesterday. I never thought, in the moment, that she wouldn’t be there to enjoy her yard ever again.

But now, often when I’m out there, I think about those moments and the bigger picture and I miss her so much.

Meanwhile Penny was laying at my feet, intently watching the feeders, when she heard me sniffling and looked over her shoulder at me, concern in her eyes. Then she popped up and put her front feet on my hips, head tilted inquisitively. I reached down and lifted her into my arms for a hug.

My sensitive girl knew. 

Then I put her back down and we both ran joyfully back to the house, her attacking my ankles, me laughing. And somewhere over the rainbow bridge Katie smiled.

I’m sure of it.