Four O’Clock is Hard, but it was Supposed to be Five.

She was persistent! That cute brat of a face, all eager eyes and whiskers. Bossed by her belly, her snout bumped our hands, shouting “Feed me; feed me now!”

We tried to train her to wait until five, but somehow her prancing, tap-dancing whines ruled the game. And so a four o’clock dinner it was… for eleven years.

Daylight savings meant nothing to her. "Time falling back” is hard to explain to a golden retriever. So we played tricks, a half scoop at THREE to get her there.
Or when my 2:30 pharmacy shift lasted til 8 with hubby out of town--she loved her "early bird halfsies" -- and even knew the term!

Now four o’clock ticks and the food dish is empty. No more whisker breaths on my hands as I write. Walking by, we feel the need to fill the water bowl. It’s a gut-wrenching reflex that first week without her.

No fair cancer crept in and took our girl in one day. But solace shines sunny; she was happy til the sudden end.

We're lucky we made it to eleven. But our greedy hearts expected fourteen, like our golden guy before her. It's never really long enough, is it?

Life’s not the same without our funny, sweet Penny. Just like it wasn't when Buster bridged over.

If only time COULD fall back…
and suspend us with the ones we love.