Walking with Sophie
A poem of remembrance

We walk with you but you’re not here.
Your collar hangs on the bag I carry — I touch it often remembering you leading the way when you were healthy, lagging behind when you weren’t.
Your sister’s in front now that you aren’t. Does she still miss you? I don’t know.
For a week, she did, crying at night, walking through rooms looking for you in corners and under furniture.
At the door, she looked behind hoping you were there, that you’d run ahead as you always did to be first to pee in the garden.
I let her smell your collar, a simple gesture of desperation — anything to stop her sorrow — and it worked.
She sniffed up and down the woven gray, holding your scent in her nose and in her heart, receiving a message I didn’t hear, couldn’t smell, but already knew. . .
You’re gone but here.
That’s the assurance she needed — the promise I had when I watched you slip away, escaping the cancer that took your sight, your energy, and finally, your life.
I knew you were leaving in one form but staying in another to walk with us as long as your sister does. Now, she knows that, too.
Sometimes, she cries in her sleep. Is she thinking of you or chasing a squirrel? Not sure, but I think she visits you and doesn’t always want to come back.
Let her come back, Sophie, for a little longer. We lost you too soon. It’s not her time.
Let her stay and we’ll all walk together until she can’t walk anymore.
We adopted Sophie & Syau in July 2018. They were 10-years-old — a bonded pair. Tragically, Sophie didn’t make it to their two-year anniversary with us. Despite her short time in our family, we miss her terribly. Syau is doing well. She’s strong and healthy and only occasionally cries in her sleep.
© Dennett 2020