This really hit me.

My dog, the first dog that was ever just mine, is sleeping a few feet away. She’s a cocky eared sweetheart with long black hair, brown points and a crooked mutt smile that just fills me with joy.

She’s 10 years old now, getting more and more blind, more tired. I found a 3 inch long tumor on her belly last month when I moved back home that doesn’t seem to hurt her but terrifies me.

It scares me every day when I go out in the morning and she isn’t waiting on the porch for me. I have to call her and wait, heart in my throat until the dearest little dog face in the world comes loping around the corner, hears my voice and transforms into a fuzzy bundle of absolute delight. Then I get to hug and kiss her in a moment of pure happiness.

My childhood was full of many animals who died. I can tell you it never gets easier but they’re just such a gift. Each moment that we have with them is so special.

Thanks for writing this, Mike, even though I’m now typing with tears pouring down my face.