I arrived home from work last Thursday, expecting to see my 17-year-old old buddy Patches, a once cantankerous and mischievous Jack Russell Terrier, waiting to greet me in our sewing room. That room had become his resting place for months, but that day after he had passed quietly in his sleep, his familiar resting rug was empty. While I could feel Patches’ presence everywhere, I had to reluctantly accept that my buddy had crossed the rainbow bridge and was finally able to run free again with millions of four-legged friends..
Wiping away tears, I walked around the sewing room and the rest of our home, reflecting on his life and visualizing the old days when our white, brown and black ball of fire would race through the house chasing another dog or forgetting to pee outside. He truly lived to the fullest.