On Friday, as Olly and I were sorting through the Christmas decorations we came across Mikey’s stocking. It was amongst all the other family decorations, after last Christmas we took it down and kept it safe with all the other decorations and stored it up in the loft fully expecting to get it down again to use this year.
Regular readers will know we lost our beautiful Westie back in May. He was suffering with what we believe was a brain tumour and it was the hardest decision of our lives to take him to the vets on that Monday afternoon knowing that we were going to be saying our last goodbye to our fur baby.
We miss him so much. His ashes remain in the box he came home in, on top of the play room storage unit amongst the chaos and noise of everyday life. I can’t bear to let him go. I can’t even think about scattering his ashes somewhere just yet. I’m not ready.
As we were hanging the stockings on the fireplace, Mikey’s included, Olly asked me when he was coming home for Christmas. I really wish I could have given him a different answer. I really wish I could have said he’d be back with his muddy paws dirtying our new sofa or his impeccable timekeeping for 5pm when he knew it was time for din-dins.
I told him the truth. I told our 33 month old little boy that our beloved Westie would never be coming back and it hurt so much. Olly doesn’t really understand and why would he? We keep Mikey’s memory alive as I do truly believe he’s still with us. I’m sure I hear his barking outside of an evening when it’s windy and I know I sound mad even writing this but I have felt him lying beside me in bed curling his little body against my legs in the dead of night.
Christmas is going to be so hard without him this year. We miss him so much.