comments: 178

Well, I knew this week would be hard, and it's only Tuesday, but it's hard. I've sobbed about fourteen times in the past four days, including this morning, about all manner of unrelated randomness, things big and small (but they felt big). I do that.

It doesn't feel like a year since Audrey passed away, but on Friday it will be exactly a year.

I remember so many things about that time, the day that it happened, the weeks before and the weeks that followed. I remember how in the car Andy said that he really didn't mind carrying her, everywhere. Even if she couldn't walk anymore, he really didn't mind carrying her anywhere she wanted to go, if only she could stay. And he would've. And so would've I. I remember that, how desperately we wanted that, how I immediately starting thinking about selling the house and moving into a ranch, so there would be no stairs. I couldn't think of anything else to do.


Clover Meadow is here on the sofa, next to me, as I write. She's curved into that doggy parenthesis I love so much, smooshed tightly between me and the patchwork pillow, for she is a smooshy kind of dog — always wanting to be pushing against you, or resting her chin on your ankle, or leaning her forehead to yours. She is heavy and cuddly, thinking nothing of sitting on my lap with her limbs hanging off, no matter that her pointy elbows are jutting into my stomach, no matter that my legs fall asleep with the weight of her on them. I don't move. Stay, girl.


Thank you for all of the kindnesses, the million sweet and gentle kindnesses, that you extended to us then and this past year, extended to us and Audrey and Clover Meadow. I think about it all the time — how, when Audrey died, we sat for hours and read the comments in the ever-darkening house, and I felt there were these tiny points of light, all over the world, each point a little wish for Audrey, for all of the lost pets, love and wishes to be well and at peace, and how the idea of that shimmering constellation comforted me then, and does still.

A couple of days later, sitting on the lawn at the zoo, listening to the Old Crow Medicine Show sing "Wagon Wheel," I laid back on the quilt and cried. The night was so soft, the song too good. When I opened my eyes, I was looking at the sky. And in the sky the clouds were swirled into wiry cowlicks of white fur — Audrey's belly, huge, right above me and filling the sky, her on her back, stretching. I grabbed Andy's hand and pointed, and for a few moments we both stared at it in awe; there was no mistaking what it looked like. Within seconds the image had changed, the clouds softening into a blur, the tufts rearranging themselves into other lost things. But the moment will stay with me forever. I can still hardly believe it really happened. But it did. I know it did. So I know she is up there.


For a long time, I could not look back at the blog, either to see the posts I wrote about everything last August, or later when I went off on that guy in the parking lot, or even before that, the older happy photos of Audrey in front of the big, huge dress; the ones where she is in the dog sweater; that funny one where she is sitting on the green chair by the window waiting for her true love, the one where she is sitting in front of the Christmas tree at night, listening for Andy. But today I looked through some really old ones, taken the weekend after September 11, 2001, just after we got her, our first puppy. We wanted to be near other people, and the ocean, so we took tiny Audrey to the beach for the first time. There, by the sea, and the rock, things felt better, as they always do. And I remember that everywhere we went that day people smiled when they saw little Audrey. She was so small and earnest. Even if you were sad, you just couldn't help but smile at a puppy. We smiled back, wanting so much to share peace. And that felt good.


I feel better.

Miss you, girl. We all do. xoxo


Melissa L says: August 12, 2008 at 11:27 AM

Oh honey. So much is contained in that past year. Thinking of you.

May all those points of light continue to surround you with love and comfort.

Oh, Alicia. Now I'm crying too, again. Love to you & Andy and Miss Clover Meadow.

So sweet. Grief and healing are such interesting parts of this life. Sending you joy and continued healing and peace through the next year... i am crying at work! that photo of audrey as a puppers is priceless! thank you for sharing it with us!

Oh, you two have loved Audrey so very well and still do. How blessed she is to have you for her people family, especially and even now. And how blessed Clover is that her aunt created such a loving home for her to come to. I love you all.

oh, sweet girl. she'll always be in your heart. i know what you mean about the sky looking that way. clover will never mind that you keep loving audrey and audrey is happy that clover's there for you and andy. that's the way love is.

sweet little aud pup.

What a wonderful tribute you wrote for Audrey and for puppy love. Thanks for sharing that with us.

the description of when you went to the concert is incredible. it's amazing what we can see if we just look. thanks for sharing audrey with us and all the rest of you guys, too.

i don't want to make it worse, but the song great companion by landon pigg is so relevant -

xo, cindy

It is hard to believe that a year has gone by. Nothing I have ever read on the internet before or since has ever touched me as deeply nor made me cry as much as I did when reading about your love for Audrey. She lives on forever in your hearts and on your blog. Thank goodness for that.

Though I've never posted here much, I always read. I remember crying and feeling so broken-hearted for you guys this time last year. I remember the few days before when she didn't want to go up the stairs, before you 'knew'. I remember sharing in a post how I could empathize, as we'd so recently lost two of our four-legged furry babies. I could truly feel your pain, as could so many others who posted.

I'm crying again, as you relived it in your post. Our family has since lost another of our dogs, last spring, and the missing is still very strong. I love God and trust Him with all my heart, but someday I want to ask Him why pets lives are so much shorter than our's, when our hearts have the capacity to love them SO much.

I love the pic of you and Puppy Audrey on the beach. It's adorable, as are the many photos you share of little Clover Meadow.

when you write
your heart like this
makes me
have faith in
the ways of the world.


it just does....

Time passes but the love is still there. Thinking of you and of sweet Audrey.

Can't believe a year has gone by. How Audrey is missed.
My Dad got really ill this time last year and even though he's on the mend now, I can't read the journal I had at the time with all the details on it, so I know how you feel about not being able to read about Audrey.
*Hugs and thoughts of both you and Andy*

Thank you for always writing from your heart.

I don't know if you've ever heard the song "Enter One" by Sol Seppy, but I thought the first verse of it was quite appropriate to this:

"After a storm
I want to be brave
And keep you warm
And not fade away
As we float from the shore
Into the light
Into the unknown
Like thousands of lanterns
Glowing with grace
In glorious silence
Descending through space
To a friend
A sister in need
Who is not alone
And they are surrounding her
And they will enfold her outstretched hand
In our love"

It's beautiful to see humanity do that for each other once in a while, and I hope that continues to happen here.

The Little Prince has his stars that contain squeaking well pulleys, Antoine de Saint-Exupery has his stars that laugh, and your stars bark, whimper, and lick your hand.

What better thing could you look up at every night?

You are so the best. And you look gorgeous in that picture and thanks for the picture of puppy Audrey and I so want to meet you and Andy because you both sound like the best people in the world. And you write so well. And I am crying like a fool in front of my co-workers (I too miss my ball of fluff, Sasha, aka Fluffbert). Love you girl!

~ You have a way of writing that is so amazingly beautiful! My eyes swelled up with tears reading your thoughts. Thinking of you and all the sweet pets in heaven. ~Amanda

Bless you and Andy and Clover and especially Audrey. Time passes and it seems unreal and then something can bring it all back and you find yourself sobbing. Audrey is with you and nothing can change that. All of us who have lost our beloved companions understand and grieve with you. I'm so glad Clover Meadow has come to you.


She will always, always be with you, and you honored your mutual love by continuing as a dog family and adopting Miss Clover Meadow.

I remember reading the first post of your loss and leaving the desk here in tears to go hug my own puppy. I think the only plausible reason why they get only a decade or so with us, is that it allows us to share our lives with more of them. Or maybe they are so perfect that they only need a decade to live a good life, where we need seven or nine.

Rest well, dear Audrey--we all miss you.

wow. It's been a whole year? I feel like it was just yesterday when I cried over the loss of a sweet dog I'd never met. Thinking of you...

Your post made me cry. I remember reading about you losing your Audrey. So very sad. I lost my own girl just three weeks ago... I cried for her too. My puppy was 14. I have two other dogs to help me, and I am glad you have Clover Meadow to snuggle and hold, and comfort you.

*hug* I can't believe it's been a whole year, seems like it was just yesterday. Hugs to you and Andy and scritches to little Clover.

What a beautiful tribute and very very sweet. I'll be thinking of you and Audrey but I'm also very happy to see Clover Meadow in your lives. *hugs*

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About Alicia Paulson


My name is Alicia Paulson
and I love to make things. I live with my husband and daughter in Portland, Oregon, and design sewing, embroidery, knitting, and crochet patterns. See more about me at




Since August of 2011 I've been using a Canon EOS 60D with an EF 18-200mm kit lens and an EF 100mm f/2.8 Macro lens.