Reminders of Buckley are everywhere.
His leash and collar still hang on the hook at the back door. His inside cage is still set up. His toys are in the back yard. His food bowls, which I'd taken out the night before, still sit on the sink waiting to be cleaned. His cage is the first thing I see when I look out the sunroom window, or the laundry window. His blanket is still on top of the bbq, waiting to be washed. Photos of him are on my mobile phone. Photos of him on my walls, sprinkled in with the rest of my life.
Every reminder causes more tears.