On April 26, my beloved Australian shepherd, Mitzi, passed away in our home, with my husband and I at her side.

I went to the vet a week later and pick up her cremains, and she has stayed on my bedside table ever since. I run my fingertips over the carved wooden box daily, telling her she’s a good girl, and that I miss her.

Her collar is front of the box, and if I touch it or pick it up, my dog Heidi will appear in an instant, anxious to see Mitzi when she hears the tags jingle. She will then smell the collar, and walk away slowly.

She remembers.

Our Christmas tree is up and fully decorated now. Mitzi and I spent many hours in the early hours of the day over the years sitting together in the living room, together, silent.

No one else was up, and the only light was from the tree.

It was always a magical time together for us.

Today I moved Mitzi’s wooden box for the first time since April.

I took it into the living room, setting it on the bookshelf that faces the Christmas tree. Next to the box is her puppy picture, and my favorite picture of her.

She now faces the Christmas tree, and it feels right.

Every morning she will be with me near the Christmas tree again.

I miss her.