04/05/2026
While I’ve been away this month, 5 of my fur legged friends 🐾🐾 have crossed the rainbow 🌈 bridge
We are not just groomers to your beloved pets, we love them just as much as you do and we feel the pain & sorrow ☹️ just like you do 😢😞
My heart goes out to all of you x
💋🙋🏻♀️💜
No matter how long we have them, it still feels like time cheats us. I remember thinking, in the beginning, that there would be plenty of time. Plenty of walks. Plenty of quiet mornings. Plenty of nights where nothing mattered except a warm body curled up nearby. I didn’t rush it. I didn’t count it. I assumed it would last. Days passed the way they always do. Fast when you’re busy. Slow when you’re tired. Ordinary in the way that feels invisible while you’re living it. Meals. Routines. Small habits that quietly become sacred without ever announcing themselves. And then one day, something shifts. Not all at once. Just enough to notice. A slower walk. A longer nap. A look that lingers a little more than it used to. That’s when time suddenly feels loud. Every moment sharper. Every second heavier. You start memorizing things you never thought you’d need to remember. The way they sit and stare into nothing. The sound of their breathing at night. The comfort of knowing exactly where they are without looking. You realize you’re not just living the days anymore. You’re holding onto them. What hurts most isn’t the ending itself. It’s the realization that even a lifetime together still feels unfinished. That love like this doesn’t fit neatly into years or calendars. It expands. It stretches. It asks for more time than we’re ever given. They give us everything without hesitation. Their trust. Their loyalty. Their presence. They never pace themselves. They love fully, from the very first day to the very last, as if time is irrelevant to them. Maybe that’s why it never feels like enough. Because love that pure doesn’t feel complete when it ends. It echoes. It stays. It settles into places you didn’t know could ache and comfort you at the same time. Long after the house is quieter. Long after routines fade. Long after you catch yourself listening for sounds that aren’t there anymore. No matter how long we have them, a part of us always feels like we needed more. One more day. One more moment. One more ordinary afternoon that didn’t seem special at the time. And maybe that’s the cost of loving something so deeply. Not regret. Not sorrow. Just the quiet truth that love this real will always outgrow time.
