An Unexpected Visitor

I couldn’t even sort through the first box of our dog Bama’s toys without bursting into tears. My husband, Alan, found me sitting on the floor in our utility room, clutching our late boxer’s favorite squeaky. He gently pulled me to my feet. “It’s okay, Lisa,” he said.

- Lisa Walker

“I’m sorry….”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll put these away. Why don’t you go outside and get some air?”

I nodded.

It had been a few months since our beloved Bama had passed away. He’d lived a good, long life. Alan and I didn’t have children. Our boxer was our baby. After Bama’s death, we couldn’t bring ourselves to go through his toys to decide what to keep, so we put them all in our utility room. I told myself I’d do it when I was ready. Apparently, I still wasn’t.

Now I sat on my front porch and sobbed. Friends and family had suggested we get another dog, but Alan and I dismissed the idea. We couldn’t go through that kind of heartbreak again. Besides, I didn’t want just any dog. I wanted Bama.