It’s too quiet in my house.

Where is the tippy tip tippy tip of Aussie nails on vinyl plank floor? Back and forth, around the house, before finally settling down for the night.

Where is the random barking? The other two pack members have been (mostly) trained to stop barking. Mitzi, deaf and protective, would continue to bark away, her head pointed up with blind eyes. Still, she barked.

Not now.

There is no jingle of her collar. No tags rhythmically clapping with her as she patrols the house.

As we return to the house for the first time since she left it, only the German shepherd greets us at the back door – silently, tail wagging. Mitzi would be there barking.

No plastic scrape of her bowl on the tile floor as she eats. No patient fridge guarding as we prepare her meds, enveloping them in cheese.

No warm brown body sitting itches from me – always.

The house is not just empty of her – it echoes the loss.