Manny Happy Returns

When I gazed over this morning at the adorable mutt sprawled next to me in my bed, I was reminded what a lucky woman I am. Manny the puggle is adjusting to his blindness, he is exercising more, and he is -- albeit slowly -- shedding some pounds. Slowly but surely, normalcy (such as it is) returns.

It's been a rough few months for us both, ever since Leo passed away. I still get frequent pangs of loss; I can't go into the backyard without imagining an ebullient lab playing fetch, I can't look at the family room couch without imagining Leo's handsome head resting on its arm. I pass by my little Leo shrine countless times each day -- the box containing his ashes, his final paw print, the picture of him as a puppy. But I avert my gaze. It's just too painful for me to look.

Yesterday, when I was walking Manny, I ran into a neighbor I hadn't seen in a while, and she asked where Leo was. It was difficult for me to speak the words out loud. "He died," I said, after managing to untwist my tongue. But that seemed inadequate. "I put him down," I added. "In May." I was stumbling over my words, trying to find some that could do justice to Leo's heroic battle and his equally heroic passing. My neighbor was clearly mortified for having asked the question.

Almost three months have passed, and I still feel off balance when I walk Manny alone. I miss the weight of Leo's eighty pound frame, the chaos of two dogs pulling me in opposite directions. I miss Leo's deep, throaty bark; I miss the white bearded "mature" dog who never stopped being a puppy.

I grieve for Manny most of all, who never understood why I carried Leo out of the house one evening and failed to bring him back. Manny, who will happily lie down just about anywhere, except in the spot at the foot of my bed which was always reserved for Leo. Manny, whose trust in me was eroded a bit when I took away his best friend. Manny, the dog who can't see but who sure knows what's missing.

Every day, Manny and I continue to reestablish the trusting relationship we once had. My handsome mutt snuggles up just a bit closer to me each night, and, little by little, his beautiful smile is returning.