Last night I had another one of those “missing Madigan” moments. I grabbed the big green watering can and filled it to go out and water plants as I have done hundreds of times over the years. I’ve even done it recently, but last night, it really struck me that Madigan wasn’t there, because this activity is another one of those things she was always there for.
I didn’t get into serious flowerpots and herbs on the porch until maybe a decade ago, when Madigan was quite young. She always followed me around, and that included when I watered plants.
When she heard me put the big green watering can in the kitchen sink and turn the water on, she’d come and sit in the hallway, between the kitchen and the door, and watch. She was at attention and ready to move the minute I shut the water off. She stood by, careful not to get too close in case I spilled the water I was carrying (she was never much of a fan of getting wet), then she’d stand and watch through the closed storm door.
Ever alert for possible intruders on her territory, she’d bark at any passerby, human or canine.
I reminisced and felt that familiar pang of sadness over losing my dear companion.
This morning, I was thinking how sad it was that there was no little face in the door when I came home or left the house. Madigan had always been there, watching and waiting for me to come back inside.
Aisling is in her crate. Maybe she’ll grow into that watchful dog some day, but that time is in the future.
Chandler, at fourteen, is so old. His sight isn’t great, but it is better than his hearing. Some days he hears me enter the house and gets up to come greet me at the door, and some days he stays in bed until he hears something jarring — often the clatter of my keys in their dish — and pops his head up to see what’s going on. He always comes to me the minute he sees I’ve returned, but he never watched me leave from the door before.
Until today.
After our lunchtime walk, I saw him standing in the hallway, as he often does, a good 15 feet from the door, just watching as I exited the house and closed the door.
I was amazed when I looked up at the house — an old habit that I always do before I pull out and drive away — and saw that the door window curtain was pulled back and there was Chandler’s little nose against the glass and his eyes watching me in my car.
Yes, I almost cried. He’s such a sweet, sweet boy.
