Mitchell came to me in my sleep as he often did these days. He talked and acted like everything was normal just like he had the days and weeks before his death. Some days I woke up and turned over with his name on the end of my tongue because I knew he had to be there. Other days I woke up with tears streaming down my face, knowing I would never see Mitchell again.
Everything was going along fine until two months ago when my old life ended just when life starting clicking. I was in love with life and I was in love with my job for the first time in what seemed like forever. For the last few years I have bounced from job to job in hopes the next one would be the right one. I somehow have managed to drop into the perfect job at a public library where I was left alone by management as soon as I proved I was competent at all aspects of my job.
After Mitchell died, I thought I was going to lose my job. Not only did I not call, I didn’t even show up for three days. The day he died, the rain was coming down in sheets and as soon as he stepped through the front door, I had bad feelings about how the day. Twenty minutes later, he had been hit by a car and killed instantly. I’m not sure I’ll ever get another dog.