Yesterday we buried our much beloved Roscoe (i.e. Roscoe P. Coltrane, ‘Scoe, Dense Nugget of Matter, Little, Mr. Man, Nuggelito, and Scobian Emps). Wow, I guess we never realize how embarrassing our pet nick names are until we try to tell someone. Especially in the case where I used to yodel for my cat Noodle, “Noodle-oodle-oodle oodle”. Embarrassing? Sure, but he’d come running.

To say we will miss him fails to describe the feeling that a huge life force has just been sucked right out of our home. He had a mighty presence for a dog of 23 pounds. He was a comic genius, a most excellent nap buddy, could howl like a wolf on command, and was fearless. Though sometimes the latter bordered on stupidity. He was also an excellent human trainer. For almost 12 years he refused to enter the house until we gave him a cookie. He was steadfast in this discipline up until his last full day on this earth. Like a monk, that Roscoe.

Last night was difficult falling asleep without his little snore. Mostly it was soft and purry like white noise, and other times grandpa loud. Whatever the decibel, it was always a sign of all being good in Roscoe’s world. In the past few weeks I’d been listening to this snore for indications of pain and discomfort, waking with him to go outside so he could relieve himself and then settling on the living room to sleep on the floor in front of the oscillating fan.

Callie has been moping around, occasionally walking though the house, checking each room. Maisy’s energy is always so mellow, it’s hard to tell if she wants to stay in and sleep or is avoiding being dive bombed by a mean mockingbird that seems to be terrorizing us since a baby raccoon got into it’s nest. And Emmett? Lord knows what’s going on in his mind. Why do all kittens seem to be on LSD?

Yesterday we took comfort in all the very kind words we received in person, by phone, text, email and Facebook. Well, kind words and cheeseburgers.

So today I continue to enjoy the company of those that remain living here at Chez Vee…the longtime companions and the new. Roscoe may be gone, but everyone still loves scrambled eggs and cheese for breakfast, cookies, and attention. Today the pudum pudum of scampering kitten paws replaces the clickity clack of terrier toes on our wood floors. And a soft purr, the happy snortles and grunts of our buddy Roscoe.

Though, truth be told, I always felt he was purring.