"I miss my bike and I miss my dog."

I think we were in San Francisco for the week. We'd had a lovely time, visiting your brother, climbing hills, eating a lot, walking a lot, and getting shocked by the cold wind and fog of August in SF, like all tourists do.

Anyway, I was probably moaning about how I wasn't ready to go home, and you told me: "I'm ready. I miss my bike. And I miss my dog."

Of course you did. Zoe was the love of your life. You said hello to her first when you came home from work. You never, ever got mad at her, even when she used to jump up and eat food right off the table. You used to take her upstairs with you for naps, and she always slept in your room.

All of us are / were nuts about animals. Mom always said she doesn't have any grandkids yet but she has lots of grandpets.

One of the things that made me most upset about your checking into the hospital thinking you had an infection, and never actually getting to leave, was that you didn't get to say goodbye to your beloved pets. No more Zoe, but you had three cats, one of whom you adored. Mini used to lounge on your lap while you read or watched TV in your (also beloved) recliner in the yellow room. You always used to whisper "hey Megs - look" so I could see her snuggling in action.

In the hospital, your friend Tony, not an animal lover, joked with you about the animals and our obsessions with them, and he said that once you showed up for drinks with golden retrievers on your tie, and he wanted to sit a couple chairs down from you! I love that tie, and I love how unabashedly you wore it.

I didn't tell you this, because I didn't want to get your hopes up, but in the hospital I tried to convince the nurses to get a therapy animal to visit. I know you felt awful, but I was so sure that you would smile, and feel a real moment of joy, if a dog walked into your room. Or you got to pet a fat bunny. I can be pretty persuasive, but the hospital didn't allow therapy animals. I thought that just seemed cruel. If someone is dying and loves dogs, surely it wouldn't hurt to let a dog pop in. No dice. Life isn't fair, proved again and again and again.

We did show you lots of animal pictures in the hospital though, and it was one of the things that you were consistently interested in. The night before you died I showed you a picture of Mini that Idriss texted to me, and I am so glad you got to see her that last time, the last time we spoke.

I hope if there is such a thing as heaven that yours is filled with snuggly cats and goofy goldens. Preferably ones with better manners than Zoe!

love, m