Part 1: The Morning My Dog Wouldn’t Stop Scratching at the Door

and her kitten. I ran my fingers through Baxter’s fur. I opened Lily’s sketchbook.

I remembered her not as someone I lost, but as someone who had been here.

One evening, as the sun dipped low and the house filled with warm light, Daniel and I sat together on the couch. The kitten slept curled between us. Baxter’s head rested on Daniel’s foot.

“I don’t continue reading …