Emptiness

There's an emptiness in the house after they're gone.
Even if they weren't the only dog,
even if the house is full of dogs that like to bark at the wind,
even if the house holds a cat that likes to yowl when he's hungry,
even if the house is home to a hamster that spends four hours spinning her wheel at night,
even if the house is called home by two gerbils that like to gnaw on things all hours of the day,
even if people call the house home - people who sometimes argue, people who often laugh, people who like to talk...
there's an emptiness in the house after they're gone.
The emptiness comes with a certain silence -
a dark, consuming, heart wrenching silence.
You'll sit in your favorite chair reminiscing,
expecting them to walk up to you -
waiting for them to bring you their favorite toy,
to lie at your feet and thump their tail as they sleep,
to put their head gently on your lap and look up at you with their soft gaze,
or to beg you for a scrap of meat.
But they won't come, and the house will feel empty.
You'll lie in bed at night,
waiting to hear them bark at the strange noise that woke them,
to squeak their favorite toy while they play just a room away,
to cry and pace when a storm rolls in at midnight,
or to cry by the door when they have to pee.
But they won't, and the house will feel empty.
You'll get up in the morning,
waiting for them to greet you when you walk out your bedroom door,
waiting for them to demand to be fed because they went through the night without food,
waiting for them to demand play while you're still half asleep,
or waiting for them to demand to be walked earlier than they know they should.
But they won't make no demands, and the house will feel empty.
If you have other dogs,
you may find yourself preparing a dish for a dog that is no more,
or grabbing a leash for a dog that can no longer be walked,
or reaching down to pet a dog that isn't there.
And the dish, the leash, your hand -
the house will feel empty.
There's a silence that follows when they leave.
A silence that seems to drag on.
A silence that seems to last forever.
No matter how loud the dogs bark,
no matter how many howls they let out in confusion,
in loss,
in pack separation -
the silence will be there.
The silence will fill your heart.
The silence will fill the hearts of all those that survived -
the dogs as they look for their friend,
their companion,
their pack member,
their family member.
The cat as he wonders why everyone looks so sad,
as he tries to comfort the humans with as many purrs as he can,
as he head butts your hand as if trying to tell you,
"It will be okay. I'm still here."
The humans as they walk around,
eyes lost,
heart broken,
face staring ever so blankly because they just don't understand.
The tears,
cried in solitude.
Buried in the fur of the surviving dogs,
as you hold them in your lap and just let it all out.
The words that no one else will understand,
spoken to those dogs in silence.
Whispered into their ears as they cry with you.
You know they don't understand English,
but crying is the same in any language.
They understand.
They understand more than you know.
But the silence remains.
The emptiness lingers.
When your friend,
your companion,
your pet...
leaves the world,
they leave behind an emptiness,
they leave behind a silence.
No matter how full the house they leave behind is.

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Barked by: Petey (Dogster Member)

February 13th 2012 at 2:58 am