It’s funny how the little quirks that once drove us crazy end up being the very things we miss the most when our dogs are gone. I catch myself thinking about my own pup all the time, and the memories that come back aren’t always the “perfect” ones. They’re the messy, silly, sometimes frustrating moments that now feel like treasures.
For me, I miss the sound of nails clicking on the kitchen floor. At the time, it would annoy me when he followed me everywhere, click-clack, click-clack, never giving me a moment of peace. But now, the silence feels heavier than I ever imagined. I would give anything to hear that sound again, because it meant he was close.
I miss the way he’d always steal my spot on the couch the second I stood up. It used to bug me when I came back with a cup of tea and found him sprawled across the cushions, looking at me like “What? This is mine now.” Back then, I’d roll my eyes and squeeze next to him. Today, I’d smile through tears if I could walk in and find him there one more time.
Even the way he barked at nothing—at shadows, at neighbors passing by, at the mailman who had done nothing more than exist—has become something I miss. I used to tell him, “Shh, it’s fine!” But that bark was his voice, his personality. The house is far too quiet without it.
Grief is strange that way. What we thought were irritations turn into reminders of how deeply we were loved and how deeply we loved back. If you’ve lost a dog, you know that feeling—the way absence makes even the smallest habits feel huge.
So tell me, what’s that “odd” thing you miss? The muddy paw prints, the hair on your clothes, the toy squeaking at 2 a.m.? Whatever it is, I promise you’re not alone. ❤️
