Someone asked me what the most difficult thing about having a dog was. I replied – the goodbye. – Unknown

I began to take my writing seriously about fifteen years ago. Around the same time we got two little Lhasa Apso sisters. They were inseparable, except when I wrote. Spice decided she was my muse. Wherever I wrote, Spice was beside me. I don't write at a desk. My laptop is literally on top of my lap. And my little fur muse was beside me. Always.

On February 25, I said goodbye to my writing buddy. As anyone who has ever loved a fur baby knows, it is an incredibly hard thing to do. She was an integral part of our lives for fifteen years. My logical side knows that fifteen years is a good long life for a little pup, but my heart wishes it could have been a little longer.

I have written since. It took me a few days to face the empty couch. But I have managed to put words down and finish the first draft of the third novel in my Honorable Intentions series. I've also completed developmental edits on book two as well as cover copy and tag lines. It's been hard, but I've pushed through.

It seems she was not my muse so much as my life coach. She taught me how to laugh daily, to see joy in simple things, to stop and pay attention to one another. To be present in the moment. She brought out a maternal instinct in me that I would have sworn did not exist. As her health began to fail these past two years, her care became a top priority. We rearranged our lives around her needs because that's what you do for someone you love. And love? Boy, did she teach me about love. Spice reminded me, daily, that love is affectionate, demonstrative, and unconditional.

Ginger and Spice tumbled into this world together. They'd never been apart in their 15+ years of life. Spice loved all three of us. Ginger loved Spice. She is struggling to make sense of this new world where she has only the humans left. Every once in a while, she'll curl up near me. She's currently snugged in beside me, as though she knows I'm writing something challenging. She'll never be the cuddle muffin her sister was; it's simply not who she is. But, I like to think that when she joins me, she finds some comfort in my proximity. I know I do in hers. It's a start. For both of us.

RIP sweet Spice. Thank you for sharing your life with us.