Coyote was my rock, my saving grace after Sachi died. She has always been a gentle soul — with just enough snark to keep me from getting too maudlin. 

Coyote: “Mom, why did Sachi have to leave us so soon?”

Me: “I’m not sure, Coyote, but I suspect it’s because the world just wasn’t big enough to handle all of that love and joy.”

Coyote: “I’m going to miss her.”

Me: “I am, too, baby girl. <We pause and reflect a moment.> “If you were to wish one thing for Sachi, now that she’s moved on, what would it be?”

Coyote: “I’d wish she’d finally catch that fat, stupid squirrel that teased us every morning from the maple tree out front. <We share a chuckle> “Remember that one that fell at her feet out of the tree that time?”

Me: <laughing> “I remember. She almost didn’t know what to do with it.”

Coyote: “Or I’d wish that she was swimming in the river, chasing ducks.”

Me: “She was like sunlight on the water.”

Coyote: “Yeah, she was beautiful, that silly Golden.” <sighs> “Mom, who’s going to make us laugh, now that she’s gone?”

Me: “I guess we’ll have to do that for each other.”

Coyote: <groans> “We’re sunk. You’re not funny.”

Me: <laughing through tears> “Well, it’ll certainly be a lot more humbling for me with just you around.”

Coyote: <putting her paw gently on my thigh> “I was teasing, Mom. You’re plenty funny. For a human.”

Me: “But not for a Golden.”

Coyote: <sighs & leans into me, just slightly> “Nope. Not for a Golden.”

——
Later, from something like a dream:

Sachi: “Mom! Mom! I don’t hurt anymore, Mom!”

Me: “I know sweetheart, I know.”

Sachi: “And I think I could really run again — and jump over logs and play!”

Me: “Then go do it, my good girl.”

Sachi: <teasing and wagging her tail> “C’mon, Mom…what’s the command?”

Me: <unlatching her collar and whispering close to her ear> “Sachi FREE!”

——

I love you, Sachi. With all the pieces of my heart.