I fought back tears and sobs the entire time. It was obvious Dad was beating himself up, as it was he who'd left the gate open. I wasn't going to make it worse. I stifled the gagging in my throat when I picked up Riley's rib cage. His paws, which I'd always called his little white boots. Everything. Damn it, Riley was going to come home.

It's a strange thing, death. By most accounts, I'm immune to the mourning that comes from it. I'd lost three of my grandparents by the time I was 12, and I've seen three friends, including my best friend, be put in the ground as the result of bloody car accidents. I always maintained impeccable composure. But I came home that night, and I sobbed.

I shut the door, turned up my radio, and collapsed. I lost every bit of composure I'd just had. My hands were still bloody and I didn't care as I cradled my head in them.

It was a quiet day this morning as I woke up in the bedroom that had once been my nursery. Maggie had laid at the foot of my bed and just looked at me. There was no furry body scratching at my tummy because he had to potty. No barking at passing cars outside.

It's almost patronizing, the quiet that comes the day after a loss like this, as though the morning is mocking you with the stark realization of what is missing.

Maggie walks around the house peering around the corners and walking in and out of empty rooms. She is looking for him and it breaks my heart. He was her big brother. They were always a pair, and now it is just her. Watching her walk around the house alone just doesn't look right. Where there was one, there was the other. And now it is just Maggie, walking and looking depressed. Maybe it's all in my head, but I think she knows. I know she knows. And she is mourning, too.

It's an amazing thing how closely we attach ourselves to pets. We invest more in them than we do in perhaps even our closest family members and friends. Yet at the same time, it allows us to find solace in the fact that even in this busy, bustling, cold world, we can still find the emotional capacity to open our hearts and ourselves up to something. And among the waxing and waning tide of emotions, we can at least find gratitude.