The Duff is Gone

MacDuff is gone. I have lost many dogs over a lifetime of following the Dog Star, but I don’t remember ever feeling this lost. The Duff was the first dog that I ever remember consciously hoping that would outlive me, because I knew the pain of losing him would be greater than the pain of someone else having to explain to his predecessors where Dad went… if that makes any sense at all.
I will say that he went peacefully and painlessly and I breathed his last breath with him. You’ll have to excuse my reluctance to share any more details at this time, as this one really has me reeling, maybe because this time I sense my own mortality. When the others passed, I took some comfort that I still had many years with Charlie, but now she’s slowing, and I’m not ready.
MacDuff had really proven himself on our last trip to Colorado as a worthy successor to Charlie’s spot on the motorcycle, but where do I go from here? And I say “I”, because for the first time in nine years, there is no “us”, at least on the on the bike.
I think I’m going to puke.