Last week was a week of lasts; every meal, pill, chore and affection carried the agonal weight of finality. We said goodbye to Eula in what was genuinely the most peaceful, beautiful way* and entered a week of firsts.

We had our first shearing day without Eula, which also brought our first 2026 lambs, 4 days earlier than our first expected date. Twins out of a first time mom, taking first breaths, first steps, first naps.

We have never lambed on this farm without her; our ewes have never had to guard their lambs from the foxes and vultures. As I lie awake with the windows open, I feel the absence of her comfort, the vacuum of peace across the whole farm.

We are wrestling with the ancient wisdom of our tradition, where sacred grief is measured in days and proscribed activities not for the sake of having rules but because millions of broken hearts have proved this method over millennia. Shiva doesn’t mean stop, it means seven.

We can’t afford to mourn Eula for seven days, though she was our first puppy together, our first and only LGD here, and mother to four puppies. Seven lambs in rapid succession, seven geese around a nest and the fox on camera means we should have already filled her position…but we couldn’t imagine the day would come, even as we passed through its shadow.

Onboarding another dog feels scary too – like getting married a week after our spouse died. We must hold two incompatible things simultaneously, processing grief and building trust. We owe it to the new dog to enter this partnership with our whole hearts, but our hearts have a hole.

I brought Eula home today. Her ashes will preside over her children, all the new lives on the farm, over Midge swallowing afterbirths to hide the smell of blood and our fitful nights staccatoed by bawling ewes and camera alerts. May her spirit cause the destroyers – the storms, vulpes vulpes, stray dogs, and dystocia to pass over us, and may her successor be a willing and gentle shomer as we move forward to life.

*If you can so plan, I recommend a sunny day with a gentle breeze, the final appointment of the day, and your veterinary family. It was so peaceful and really perfect for a dog who didn’t like being indoors. Everyone should cross the threshold with birdsong and the voices of loved ones in their ears, and familiar hands holding them.