A friend dropped by a short while ago to bring me a bag of dog food and some dog treats. As soon as I saw the bag I knew the news wasn’t good. Her beloved pal of 15 years had died.

Sam was an Akita/Chow mix with a rotund broad- shouldered body covered in thick, golden fur. She had a black tongue of all things, thanks to her Chow heritage and lived on the corner of my street. Sam took pleasure in hiding behind bushes and springing out to startle my dog Luca whenever we passed by the property. We always saw her coming and Luca would do a mock charge until, after years of baring his teeth, he tired of even bothering. It never stopped Sam.

I knew Sam was slowing down. Her eyes and ears weren’t what they used to be and arthritis had reduced her daily walks with her mistress to a crawl. She no longer ran to the fence but remained basking in the sun on the porch as we walked by; her nose in the air as if she could smell us, which she probably could.

The death of pet is an immense loss and unless one has experienced the massive hole it leaves, a difficult emotion to describe.

There are spaces everywhere that are suddenly empty like the blanket under the piano, the rug at the end of the bed, the space at the top of the stairs or the inlet in the kitchen where a water bowl used to be.

Familiar sounds disappear: the scrabble of feet on a hard wood floor, the thump of a body disengaging from the couch, the tinkle of a collar against a food bowl.

Familiar habits are no longer necessary. For weeks after my dog Ikwé died, I would find myself checking a clock because I needed to get home to feed a dog that wasn’t there. My office footstool remained tucked away in case the dog needed more room. I awoke each morning ready for a walk that was no longer a necessity.

The daily tasks and habits that had been part of my life for seventeen years vanished in an instant and the reality and discipline took my mind and body months of readjustment.

Pets are so much more than furry beings we like having around. They are unique personalities, with characteristics that can irritate and enchant in equal measure. They learn our habits, our weaknesses and our moods, and after winding their furry paws around our hearts, they burrow inside and take up residence. So much so that when they leave there are holes everywhere.

My neighbor is still grieving and drops by every now and then for some much needed dog time with Luca. There were cookies in the mailbox just this week. She is volunteering at an animal shelter to help soothe the lingering sense of loss. It will take time; a lot of time and that is what we can expect to happen when we lose someone we love.