Today would have been my youngest sister’s birthday. Yes, she was born the day after Christmas. She didn’t have an easy life and died about four years ago. I remember you sis… Happy Birthday.

I didn’t get the post quite right in this image. I think the mid-tones are a little off. Yet I like the image because it captures some of the character of my Girl.

The terrier in her wants to be lead — the alpha. I accuse her of “following from the front,” just like I used to my children. She doesn’t really know where we’re going, although she knows many of our regular paths. She runs out ahead searching for “wabbits” I suspect, sniffing, peeing, and sometimes pooping to tell other passers-by “Ki was here.”

To keep her honest, I often call her back in with a “Heel!” If that doesn’t do it, then she gets a touch from the collar. That usually brings her back with a snort. I’ll tell her “Don’t you snort at me!” She often responds with what I call a “blow” — a strong exhale. That’s as if to say “Yeah, right.”

She is a terrier. I call her my “terrible terrier” many times. But she’s really not terrible.

If I wasn’t the leader, then she would be. That’s nature of alpha dogs, be they male or female. She doesn’t really challenge my authority, but she tells me what she wants. I sometimes accuse her of “telling me what I want.” Then again, I used to accuse Wife of same.

Speaking of Wife, I think about her a lot right now. A year ago we were really in the thick of it. With lymphoma cells in her central nervous system, she was scheduled for a marathon MRI study on Friday. I could tell it was bad, although I couldn’t tell her that. I think she knew anyway, although she generally kept her thoughts to herself. It became more difficult for her to interact — speech was difficult. It became more difficult for her to see as well. She complained of double vision.

I knew all this most likely meant she had lymphoma in her brain. The fever, nausea, and physical effects were apparent to me, whether the doctors would confirm or not. I knew Wife was dying.

It would be confirmed for me in a few days when the report of a brain lesion came back from the MRI study. The finality of her disease would be revealed in a couple more weeks. Although I couldn’t be certain, I knew what was happening. My sense of impending loss was heavy. I recall it so clearly now and I feel that heaviness. I suppose this is common, but it’s a first time for me. I am still in my “year of firsts.”

So, on this Christmas Eve I recall the events of last year. I don’t think my intent is to make myself feel bad. Hell, I already do that enough without any help. I think I want to hang on to those memories for they are a part of what defines Wife’s character and my character. They are watershed events that lead up to my change of status from husband to widower.

In a few more weeks I will complete my “year of firsts.” I wrote, I think poorly, about moving forward but not moving on. I am leaving behind my former life as husband and the husbanding of Wife. That is a fact. But I don’t want to move on — that has a sense of deliberation that I don’t have. That is, a sense of deliberate change as if I had left her. I did not. I would not. That is not in my nature.

No, I see this as a time to move forward. I was released from my responsibility as husband when Wife died. Almost all the things that needed to be done after her death are complete. The amount of things to deal with is reducing weekly. Eventually I will achieve my goal of dropping things that are no longer wanted or nor longer useful. I see that as the sign it’s time to move forward to new things.

That means it’s time to figure out what those new things should be. I have part of a plan assembled. It isn’t complete, at least not yet. But it’s a beginning. That will have to be good enough.

Ki needs me. I think I need her more than she needs me. But it’s a good partnership and we have a great interspecies friendship. For now, it is Ki and me.

The other evening Young Son and I ate the last of our leftover pizza. While we were eating, we watched an episode of my latest addiction, Dexter. When the pizza was gone, Young Son retrieved a couple of cookies from his fiance’s care package and offered me one. I accepted, of course. I’m not stupid.

The Girl sat at my feet, looking at me with those asking/demanding eyes she can do. I usually share a bit of my food with her, not on demand, but like a good alpha when I feel it’s appropriate. So she got a bit of my peanut butter cookie.

The cookies consumed, we continued watching Dexter. I noticed the Girl sitting before Young Son. He got down on the floor with her. She was in her please sit. He got a paw and it was clear she was asking for something.

Finally, he said to me “What does she want? She gave me a paw. She’s asking for something.” I thought for a few minutes.

“Do you want a cookie?” I asked her. I got eyes. So I got up and got a couple of Girl-cookies from her stash and sat back down (Dexter was paused). She sat at my feet, nuzzling the hand with the biscuits. I held them, watching her. She worked and worked at my hand, trying to lick a biscuit from my grasp or hook it with a canine tooth. I talked to her and laughed while she worked, then finally relented and let her take one from my hand.

The other was still hidden in my paw. She finished the first and asked for the second, which I presented when she laid down on command.

Satisfied that she had her own cookies, she hopped onto the sofa on her mat next to me. Young Son came over and sat on the sofa next to her. She settled right down and we finished our episode of Dexter together.

She wanted her own cookies. She asked nicely. It took us less-sensitive humans a bit to figure it out, but we did.