An Open Letter to the Best Dog

In 2014, before I met my partner, him and his roommate got a dog. He was a year old already, but as soon as they saw them, they knew he was meant to be family. A few months later, we made it official and I became part of your family too. Around Christmas that year, we decided to put up a little tree, one of which you ripped through the kennel and slept with. Since then we never got a tree again. But that's okay, you were worth more than a tree. Almost a year later, we decide to get you a little brother. And boy did you love him. As a teething puppy, you let him chew all over you, and you were so proud. The dad who stepped up we'd call you. A while later, the family got bigger. First, the little girl. The feral cat, who stuck to you like glue. She knew you were safe. Then, our last and final addition, our big girl. She loved you from day one. She sat with/on you at any possible moment. 

I could fill this space with every memory I have of you. But the one I love the most is how you looked at me. Like I could do no wrong. I was your momma, I was your safe place. I miss hearing your taps on the floor. I miss you whining while we eat dinner. Your low bellow whine of a bark when the others were barking. I miss the weight of you laying on my side. 

You were old, and sick, and tired, i know. But now, the house feels empty. The family feels smaller. I feel like I lost something big, bigger than just a dog. I wish I laid with you more. I wish we walked more. I wish we snuggled more. One thing I can say will full certainty is that I could never love you more than I did. You changed my life. And I will miss you forever. 

You were a light in my world, and now it's a little dimmer without you.