Mornings used to be my favorite part of the day—because they started with Chooch. Every sunrise felt brighter knowing I’d hear the soft sound of his paws before I even opened my eyes. Chooch had this sixth sense for when I was waking up. His big eyes would meet mine, and his tail would thump gently, just once or twice, as if to say, “I’m here, let’s start our day.”
Now, the mornings feel quieter. Too quiet. No heavy head nudging into my hand. No excited bark asking for breakfast. No stretching, yawning, or warm presence lying next to me. The emptiness hits hardest when I reach for the leash out of habit, or glance at his favorite spot by the door. The weight of his absence is everywhere, but it’s especially heavy in those first waking moments when he used to be the very first part of my day.
But then there’s CiCi.
She’s a completely different soul—goofy, high-energy, and full of surprises. When I’m lost in memories of Chooch, CiCi brings me back to the present with her wagging tail and playful eyes. She doesn’t try to replace him, and she doesn’t have to. Somehow, she knows just how to lift my spirits, often without doing anything grand. A silly spin, a belly flop onto her bed, or even just her clumsy way of climbing into my lap can make me laugh when I didn’t think I could.
One morning, I sat quietly in the kitchen, coffee untouched, thinking of all the times Chooch had rested his chin on my knee as I drank it. Out of nowhere, CiCi trotted in, jumped onto the bench next to me, and put her head gently in my lap—almost the exact same way. It broke me and healed me at the same time.
Grief doesn’t go away, but joy still finds its way in.
I’ll always miss Chooch, especially in the mornings. He was a rhythm in my life that I never wanted to lose. But thanks to CiCi, that rhythm hasn’t stopped—it’s just changed. She reminds me that love continues, even after loss. And for that, I’m so grateful.
Thank you, CiCi, for bringing light to my mornings again.
