It was about 6 AM this morning, a Tuesday, when Xerx drew his last breath. It was when the room fell silent. And I went numb.

We had spent the night both sleeping on my bed, our noses 6 inches apart. Every time I opened my eyes, I found Xerx’s eyes looking into mine. They were so sad. I will never forget.

Now his body lay limp. It was time to do what I had for so long dreaded doing - to bury Xerx.

I went downstairs to find a box. I had tentatively picked one out earlier. It still looked like a good choice. At one time I was going to bury him with his bed, but I had since decided that meant a much larger box and a much bigger hole. Not that Xerx wasn’t worth the extra digging, but he wasn‘t going to know the difference.

I now go into the laundry room and take down Xerx’s freshly washed blanket. I line the box with it. I go to get Xerx. I lift his limp body. I have to hold his head. I gently lay him in the lined box. He looks comfortable …maybe too comfortable. There’s a lot of extra box. I haven’t slept much the past two nights. I don’t feel the energy to dig a hole any bigger than it needs to be.

I find a smaller box. I line it with the blanket and place Xerx in it. He fits. He’s curled as he often slept. It will be a long nap.

I take off his collar. I want to keep it. I debate putting his one toy in with him. It’s a yellow duck. I decide not.

I decide the most significant thing is his leash. We went through 5 of them. He always kept the leash tight - maxing out his “range”. He loved our walks. He would remind me every day. I place his leash in with him …untied. He’s free.

I whisper goodbye, lay the ends of the blanket over him and place the cover on the box. It’s the last time I’ll see him.

I have a spade ready next to the door. I take the box and the spade and slowly walk down into the woods that is the back of my lot. I slowly walk the path we walked a hundred and more times. I step over the logs it was always fun to watch Xerx jump over. I come to where Nyla is buried - Wayne and Dona’s dog that died when she was staying with me. The plan has always been to bury Xerx next to her, but now I’m uncertain about where exactly Nyla is.

I choose a spot I know Nyla is not. I also make sure one can see the house from the spot. Xerx always had to have me within his site.

I put the spade into the earth. I remember dreading this moment - to dig a hole to bury a special friend. I stop. The tears flow.

The hole is between 3 small trees. I think, “How appropriate. Three trees he can sniff without getting up.” I smile …kinda. I’ll miss his sniffing.

I sing a “morning” song that comes to mind: “In the morning when I rise, in the morning when I rise, In the morning when I rise, Give me Jesus.”

I pray. I pray for the new chapter of my life now unfolding (a different story).

I pray for my walks without Xerx - that they become undistracted walks with God.

I don’t think i’m making the hole big enough. I try the box. I need a bigger hole. I need less tree roots.

Eventually, I get the bigger hole. I lower the box. I slowly start to shovel the dirt back into the hole. I hate the sound of the dirt on the box.

I finish.

Xerx is buried …at least his body. Where his spirit is I have no idea. I know it’s not in the box.

I know the rock I want to put on his grave. It’s by the front door. I climb the hill. Turns out the rock is heavier than it use to be. Will have to wait until I have help.

I return to the house. I open the door and pause. Nothing. Xerx did not scoot past me to get in the house first.

There’s going to be a lot of nothing in the days to come.