Today I mowed the lawn. As I brushed up against our rosemary hedge, the strong scent of the plant rose up. I can never smell rosemary without conjuring up memories of our awesome dog, Greta. For some reason she loved to run through the rosemary. She'd come from in "doing business" all happy waggy stump, wiggly dog and reeking of rosemary. You'd think she had been gone from us for days, not just a few minutes. I'd sit on the floor and she'd lay down between my legs and I'd hug her and smell her fur.
When she left us, almost five years ago now, we worried that our memories of her would fade and dim as other pets came into our lives. I'm happy that doesn't seem to be happening.
V.



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