Yesterday I was talking to DIL#3 and mentioned that we had lost Maya, our "puppy" (not sure why we called her "Puppy" when she was 16 years old, but "Puppy" she was) earlier in the day. The Most Charming Grandson#2 who will be four years old in two weeks said, "We lost Fern [their dog] in the bush but we found her again." His mum had to explain that when Nana said "lost" she meant as in died, and naturally there were some questions. However, I thought it was really sweet that he was trying to comfort me and tell me not to be concerned in his own way.
Maya came to us at 12 years of age (calendar years, not doggy years) from a loving family who were no longer able to keep her. She had the sweetest temperament ...
... great with children ...
... in the early years, enjoying a walk ...
... loved DH and was always trying to find ways to be near him (I was rarely on her radar although she did like to lie on the mat by the french doors to the veranda and be close to us) ...
... and was just a beautifully-natured pet who will be sadly missed.
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