You were a floppy, bouncy yellow lab puppy that chewed up almost everything you could reach twelve and a half years ago.
You grew into a big, sweet, brown-eyed boy who loved belly rubs and treats.
You would wait until your adopted Chihuahua brother finished licking dishes put down for “prewash” before getting in on it yourself.
My Dad loved taking you for walks.
You made all kinds of chuffs and grunts and cute noises when you got loved up.
You always greeted us at the door when we got home, and taught us how to give our full attention to those we love. You made us more human by making us more humane.
Sometimes I think I still hear your nails on the floor or your breathing in the night.
I am grateful, even in loss, that when the tumors came roaring back and we had to let you go, you could take the needle lying on a soft bed of green grass, in our garden, on a sunny Wednesday afternoon in July, surrounded by those you love. Everyone should be so fortunate.
I will miss you always.