I didn’t get a chance to tell you today – I love you. You are such a great friend, and I will never forget that. Seven years ago, I was grieving over the loss of my childhood dog Sam, and you just flopped into my life – belly up of course – and were exactly what I needed.
I remember the day that we brought you home; we were so scared that you were unhappy being away from everything you knew at Larry’s. You trotted nervously around the house for a while, and after spending hours trying to get you to play, I had to give in and get some homework done. It was my senior year after all. Deeply entrenched in some AP something-or-other, I was startled by a sudden thud, right in my lap. Convinced that you were a lap dog, you hopped the entire front half of your body on to my lap and just stared at me. And smiled. This would continue for about the next six years. I would often tell you to “Get down, Zach!” but now I wish I hadn’t. I didn’t get to hold you as a puppy, but as I held you then (kind of), I knew that we would be great friends.
You didn’t know how to fetch or leap to catch a frisbee, you hated walking in dewy grass, you’d show off the family jewels whenever you had the chance, and your herding/ankle biting tendencies showed whenever I’d dance in your presence. None of that mattered though, because you were kind, loving, loyal, and a friend to all. You were a dog who loved cats; a gentle giant who would let a five pound Yorkie sit on your head at the park; a companion who would walk beside me wherever I went; someone who would never let a high five go left hanging; the most persistent alarm clock of all time; a puppy brother; a constant smile.
I didn’t get a chance to tell you today, but I know that you have been strong. I know that you were ready. I hope that you get to meet Sam, Duke and Ripper, Rusty and Rocky. I hope that you and Sam go on “klaws” together, and laugh about my singing in the shower and all of the other weird things that I do when I think no one is looking. I hope that you finally get the pet cat that you had always wanted. I hope that you know the answer to “Are you a good-good boy?” was always “Yes”.
I didn’t get a chance to tell you good-bye today, so I will say this – I will see you again. Until then, I will smile thinking of the love that you gave me. I am so honored.
Love you, Little Buddy.