It’s been a crappy few weeks. I have not written or even worked on revisions. You might ask why. For admission—my muse abandoned me. It’s not his fault, but without him, my heart is empty.

Most people might describe their muse as a female presence. Not me. Mine was an eighty-five pound perfect specimen of the German Shepherd breed standard. A short-hair, black and tan with the most expressive face. Though I did not speak his language, he understood mine. And now he is gone.

I’m forcing myself to write even this. The joy of putting words on paper has been absent. Hell, I haven’t been in the mood to do anything. I kept busy with labor intensive work for a few days in order to keep my mind off mourning. Then there was nothing left to do. The numbness faded, and I wept.

As humans, we domesticated animals to help and protect us. There were jobs to be done which we couldn’t handle alone. Animals soon became our daily workmates and companions whether hunting, plowing, or all of the other odd jobs we recruited them to do. Over time, this evolved for some into a focus on companionship. We crave companionship—a level of unconditional love and loyalty they offer to us.

I am not going to call myself a “furr-parent.” My pets are not my “furr-kids.” I believe those are demeaning terms. I will say I am a pet owner. I am a pet owner that had to unexpectedly say goodbye to a most dedicated protector and companion. I lost the emotional reflection of my life. My heart aches, but for myself and the loss. The decision was the best to make for him. I could not let him suffer only to gain a few more days or weeks with him.

I go on knowing he was my muse. His loyalty lives on in my work. His honesty immortalized in letters on a page. His companionship offered up to a lost and wandering character such as myself.