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I don’t want to let you go.
I don’t want to give you to the goats.
I know I will still see you and sometimes you can come up the stairs to visit me, but I’m going to miss you being here all the time. I’m going to miss how you bounce across the porch on your giant puppy paws and how you pretend to just accidentally “fall” inside the house if you find the door cracked open for a minute. I’m going to miss how you go to bed with the farm shih-tsu on the big pink blanket and how you just collapse like you’re dead–going from 100 mph to zero in one second–when you’re ready to sleep. I’m going to miss how you get up at 6 am and start dragging that pink blanket around and how the farm shih-tsu tries to bite your head off for waking him up when you throw him off it. And I’m really going to miss how you pick up your food bowl in your mouth and carry it to me when you’re hungry.
I’m going to miss how you like your belly rubbed when you stretch out on the porch and how you find the most ridiculous positions–and places–to sleep.
I’m going to miss how you like to follow me all over the farm and ride in my car. And I know the chickens are going to miss how you like to come with me to let them out every morning and put them away every night.
I’m going to miss how you used to fit into the washtub and how you used to be clean.
I know that what you have to do now is important, and I know that you will be good at your job.
But I’m going to miss how you used to love me more than you love the goats because I know that soon you won’t.
P.S. Don’t forget who gave you all those Snausages.
P.P.S. I have more.
