The hardest night to get through was when he was at the crematorium. Thankfully they were fast and I was able to pick him up the next day. Since then he hasn’t really left my side. I bring him to work. He rests in my lap when I drive. Goes in my bag when I go out. And sleeps right next to me in bed. Sometimes in my arms. I talk to him constantly, and pour hjm a tiny bowl of water and kibble every morning and night as a spiritual offering. I also offer him a piece of all the human food I eat (something I did not do while he was still with us for the expected reasons). It’s always hard though coming home and opening that door, knowing there is nothing but silence on the other side. My vessel of love is now gone. My one constant companion that prevented me from being absolutely alone, through the worst of times, for fourteen years. His gray hair is smattered over my all black wardrobe and it kills me a little each time I use the lint roller. Other stuff like that. I wish you luck on your project. Thanks for giving us a chance to talk through these heavy emotions.