We scattered Tate’s ashes at the cabin – his favorite place.
I know some people like to keep their dog’s ashes but I knew I wouldn’t ever let him go if we kept them. So we sprinkled them from the top of the hill, down his path to the lake, along the shore and in the water.
From the cabin, I could see four ashy splotches in the water, like ghostly pawprints. I kept checking to see if they were still there, like I used to check on him to make sure he was still there. But when we were all packed to go, I couldn’t leave them there. It was too much like leaving him there alone (crazy, I know.) So I went and dispersed them, “Go play, my good smart boy.”
I cried a lot but I feel better knowing he’s now part of his favorite place in the whole world.
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