I place the last of his belongings in the alley.
His leash. His stuffed squirrel. His squeak toy. The citronella collar we sometimes used to keep him quiet. And lastly his bed.
He adored his bed.
The truck. Droning closer. At the top of the alley. Crushing discarded memories house by house.
My stomach turned.
The truck will swallow all I have left of him. The truck will cement the empty, circular space where my sweet pup used to reside. The space will become a bottomless well, filled to the brim with tears for my furry son.
I return home.