Of all the photos on my iphone, half are pictures of Sam, the dog whose life ended in the spring. When I look at her I feel connected to her even if she’s gone. No wonder I hesitate to delete them.

The ones that seem most accurate are the ones where she’s looking into the distance. I have no idea what she sees now, but it might be like this.

She seems so alive in the gif.

We have a garden that is a kind of memorial to her. Yes a new garden reminds us that there’s a cycle, life following from death, but it’s not just dead leaves fertilizing the soil.

There was a place in our yard where the grass wouldn’t grow. While there had been dead spots before, it was especially concentrated this winter. Because we had lots of snow with a narrow doggie corridor I’d shoveled, Sam would always pee in the same place.

It’s uncanny that she created a kind of dead zone due to her regular trips out, a lot of yellow snow in winter, followed by a dead zone in spring & summer.

The shape of the area, once it was delineated into the lawn bore a curious resemblance to a teardrop.

Coincidence?

We have now planted hydrangea and rose of sharon.

The denizens of the yard now seem bolder. We see chipmunks, foxes and even skunks, fearless because the usual territorial predator is no longer prowling her territory, no longer scaring them away. It smells different.

I have my memorabilia. From Midtown Mobile veterinary hospice services, we have not just Sam’s ashes but a pawprint, some of her fur, to go with my many photos. I’ve printed some.

Life goes on.