The biggest hole from the smallest of things

As the pain in my face suggests, this last photo with my best friend was taken on his final day.

This house feels empty. Somehow, twice as big.
The void from the noise, the presence, the ball of energy that has always seemed to exist.

Now you are gone; it's the things that drove me insane that I seem to miss.
The clinking of your collar, the barking without cause, knocking over your food bowl when you think you're being ignored.

I'm staring at the empty impression in your beanbag; I'm crying beside your crate.
I'm conflicted by the decision to end your suffering and how the power to end a life should not be mine to take.

I know the end wasn't easy, boy. I'm sorry I couldn't take your place.
I'm delaying washing your blankets for fear of losing any remaining trace.

I'll carry you in my heart, old friend, like so many times you carried me.
I'll still look for you in the mornings before I'm floored by waves of misery.

I hold your collar in my pocket now wherever I may go.
For now, for the first time in a decade, I must walk these fields alone.

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