Dear Miss Sadie,
A few nights after you left us, I had the sweetest dream.
I was standing in the kitchen, and I heard you scratch at the front door to come in. I looked down the stairs, toward the front hall.
The inside door was open, but I could see through the clear storm door.
There you were.
Standing on the front porch, looking up at me. Your eyes were both wide open, like they used to be before you got sick. Shiny golden brown eyes, looking up at me. Your mouth was open in that loopy doggie grin, with your tongue lolling out one side.
Outside in the yard it was fall, just like in real life. Yellow leaves covered the grass and I could see the drying stalks of day lilies.
But there on the porch, on our little brick porch, it was snowing hard. You were covered in snow flakes; it was swirling all around you. You started to hop up and down, like you used to do when you were really happy or excited.
I laughed in my dream, and I thought, “Oh, wow! I forgot how she used to jump! She hasn’t done that in years.”
You were so happy, jumping in the snow, grinning up at me.
And then it was as if I was floating toward you. Suddenly you were right there, just on the other side of the glass. Jumping with joy, jumping in the snowstorm. Right there in front of me.
You looked right into my eyes, and I looked right back.
Then slowly, you simply faded, and you disappeared.
Outside it was fall again. The porch was empty.
I think you came back one last time. I think you came to say goodbye and thanks.
I miss you.