Your Story

TITLE: Dandelion Wishes

The dandelions are blooming again, a sea of gold mirroring the sunlight. It’s beautiful, really, but all I see are memories. Four months. Four months since Buster, my sweet poodle, chased butterflies amongst these very flowers. Four months since cancer stole the light from his eyes.

I live alone, you see. Buster wasn't just a pet; he was my companion. Every morning, his gentle nudge would wake me for our walk. He’d prance, a silly, fluffy cloud on a leash, sniffing every tree and greeting every passerby with a wagging tail. I’d reward him with a tiny training treat – salmon flavored, his absolute favorite – and a scratch behind the ears.

This garden… it feels so empty now. He used to lie patiently by my side while I weeded, his warm presence a comforting weight. Sometimes, he’d “help” by gently digging, a playful attempt at assisting. Honestly, it usually meant re-arranging my carefully planted rows, but I never had the heart to scold him. He’d just look up at me with those earnest, loving eyes.

I remember the photo we took, lying amongst the dandelions. I'm smiling, but looking at it now, Buster’s gaze feels…knowing. As if he understood how much joy he brought into my quiet life.

Now, when I’m out here, I find myself talking to the empty space beside me, telling him about the roses, the tomatoes, the buzzing bees. I make a wish on every dandelion seed head, a silent plea for a little piece of him to bloom again, if only in my heart.